#and yeah. I am choosing to believe someone’s trying to look out for me and help me heal

[void-tiger]

Yeah. The difference between whether I have my head back or feel like I’m trying to work around a festering pearl is whether or not I feel safe and secure and accepted and worth the trouble. It isn’t even the depth and frequency, apparently. It’s security and whether or not either I can truly make myself choose to trust someone or they fight to earn my trust back as many times as it takes with my own personal history and environment mucking things up

But yeah. It’s good to have a clear head again.

[thef1diary]

Little Big Fan | Eight

— Little Big Allergy

Series Masterlist

wc: 3.6k

Note: I am not a medical professional, so please let me know if something is incorrect

"Don't you dare think about cancelling, you are going on that date," your best friend's voice rang out of your phone on speaker while you were choosing a dress for tonight.

You turned to look at the phone, as if your best friend was standing there, "I'm not going to cancel, I just don't know what to wear," you responded, placing another dress against your body but frowning.

"Wear that one sexy red dress you have, who knows, you might just get laid tonight."

You shuffled through your closet, finding the red dress in the back, which was expected since you didn't wear it in a long time. You held it out in front of you, "don't you think it's too revealing for the first date? Maybe I could wear this next time."

It was a backless, short garment with two straps. While the back was revealing, so was the front, which featured two cutouts around the hips and exposed a bit of cleavage due to the lack of material.

Your friend hummed, "so we're planning a second date as well huh?" You could basically hear her smirk on the other end. "Well I hope this date goes well," you reasoned, but the jittery feeling didn't go away.

"You and Max are already good friends who happen to flirt occasionally, what could go wrong?" Then after a short pause, she added, "actually no, don't answer that. Try your blue dress, I bet he'd like to see you in blue."

After almost every interaction you've had with Max, starting from the grocery store, you've told your friend everything. Which is why when she suggested wearing blue, you weren't opposed to it.

Putting your red dress back in the closet for another time, which was hopefully soon, you held a navy blue dress in your hand, examining it before holding it up against your body.

While this one, like the red dress, had two straps holding it together, it was longer, reaching a few inches past your knees and including a little slit down the side for convenience.

"Alright, this is the one," you stated and continued conversing with your friend while you changed and began doing your makeup.

"So Bella is at Tyler's?" She asked, making you nod before realizing that she couldn't see you. "Yeah, she'll be there for the weekend."

"Oh how fun!" You could hear the sarcasm in her voice and chuckled, "it's fine, she should be spending time with her dad."

"The same one who called her overdramatic? Did you seriously have to have a kid with a guy like him?" This was a conversation you've had with her many times, and you would always reply with the same answer, "we were young and immature, but Isabella is the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"She truly is, which makes me glad that she turned out like you more than him." You chuckled, "oh trust me, I am glad about that too. It would've been a nightmare if I had to see a little version of him all the time."

"So, speaking of Isabella, how are you going to tell her that you are dating someone who happens to be her favourite person in her favourite sport?"

You groaned, "I don't know, I really don't know. I can't stop thinking about it, because of what Tyler told me," you explained. "Are you still believing his words? Actually scratch that, why are you letting your ex determine your future relationship?"

"God, why do you have to ask such questions," you muttered, taking a moment to think about your response.

"I don't want to believe him, I have a feeling something else happened that day which he didn't tell me about. Plus he's not only my ex, he's the father of my child. I don't think of him as anything more than that."

"Honestly that asshole shouldn't even be considered the father of such a beautiful little girl," your friend stated, and you couldn't help but agree with her.

"Anyways, let's not talk about him, I don't want to ruin my mood before the night even starts," you comment, with your friend humming in agreement.

"You're right, let's talk about Max!" She exclaimed, making you chuckle. That's whom you ended up talking about for the remainder of the time you were getting ready.

Even though she knew all the details right from day one, she wanted another whole story time of how you and Max met, leading up to when he asked you out. Instead of opposing to repeat the story, which you don't even know how many times you've told her by now, you happily told her all the details as if it was the first time.

A few minutes after you ended the phone call with your best friend, your phone rang again which you initially thought was a call from Max. However, it was a call from an unknown number.

You answered the call, and you were met with a woman's panicking voice on the other end, "is this Isabella's mother?"

"Yes, who is this?" You asked first, calming down the inner voices that instantly thought about the worse possible scenario involving your daughter.

"I'm Emma, I don't know if you know me but I am actually at the hospital, with Isabella." You tightened your grasp on the phone, as it was close to slipping away from your hands at Emma's words.

"What happened and which hospital are you at?" You instantly began moving around your house, finding your car keys as you waited for a response.

Emma told you the address as you were leaving through the front door. "She had a severe allergic reaction, and I thought it would be best to bring her to the hospital. I am sorry for disturbing you, I wasn't able to get in touch with Tyler."

You took a deep breath in, knowing that it was bound to happen someday, even though you would rather not have it happen at all. "I'm on my way, should be there in ten minutes. Thank you for letting me know."

It would've been pointless to argue with her, especially since she was the one who informed you of the situation at hand and had the decency to take your daughter to the hospital.

You rushed into the hospital within eight minutes, a record time for you, and you might've broken a few speeding laws but it was for a good reason. It didn't take too long finding Isabella, considering she was in the ER, with a frantic woman standing nearby, whom you assumed was Emma.

As soon as she spotted you, her first words to you was another apology, "I am so, so sorry, I had no idea she had a peanut allergy." That led you towards one question, well more than one but you started off with just one, "what happened?"

She sighed, before telling you how she spent the entire day with Isabella. "One of my friends came by and dropped off some baked goods, I swear I had no idea that it had peanuts in it."

You reasoned that if you calmed her down, it would calm you down as well, because the increasing dread in your thoughts would not benefit you in any situation. You put your hands on her shoulders, "I'm not blaming you for it, you didn't know."

You looked at the doors leading to the ER, "how bad was it?" Emma hesitated before muttering words that made your heart ache, "really bad, she started swelling up everywhere and then passed out."

You tried to sit down, but the need to know her well-being caused you to walk back and forth in the hallway.  Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you were about to ignore it until you recalled something really important.

"Shit!" Max was calling. Of course he was, after all he was expecting you to be home and ready for a date tonight.

"Hey, I'm standing at your front door, are you home or?" He started and awkwardly chuckled, causing you to shut your eyes, imagining how the night was expected to go. He was probably holding a bouquet of flowers, looking like an idiot standing by the door because you weren't home.

"Max, I'm so sorry, I'm actually at the hospital." There was no reason to lie, but even after telling the truth, you didn't feel any less guilty.

"What happened? Are you okay? Is Isabella okay?" His response was quick, and slightly surprising but you've known Max long enough that his kindness wasn't as shocking anymore.

"It's Isabella, allergic reaction," you briefly described, and heard some shuffling around on the other end before he asked for the address. "You don't have to come," you told him as you normally did, but he didn't agree again, saying "I want to."

You didn't argue with him, as your heart warmed at the fact that Max wanted to see Isabella himself, and stay right by your side until she was completely fine.

Quickly telling him the address as you noticed a doctor walking towards you and Emma, you hung up the call. "Which one of you is the patient's guardian?"

You stepped forward, "I'm her mother, how is she?"

"It was an anaphylactic allergic reaction, however everything is under control. We've administered epinephrine but we will be moving her to the ICU for a few hours just for observation purposes in case the symptoms are back."

You let out a sigh in relief, as did Emma. "Thank you," you nodded towards the doctor. Once they left, you sat down, the anxiousness leaving your body.

Looking at Emma, who was standing against the wall in front of you, you had another question brewing in your mind. "Where was Tyler when all this happened?" You asked, remembering that she called you only because she couldn't reach him.

"He said he had an emergency meeting come up," Emma spoke her words carefully, earning raised eyebrows from you. "He left you alone with my daughter?" You had to confirm the words you were hearing and scoffed once she nodded.

"It's not your responsibility to take of my child, it's his. You're not her guardian nor babysitter, you shouldn't have to do that." Emma shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal, "it's not the first time."

"How dare he?" You muttered under your breath before standing up and stepping closer to her. "We both have epipens for situations like this, and I am assuming that since you didn't know about her allergy, Tyler didn't tell you about the epipen either?”

Emma shook her head, "no, he didn't."

His lack of attention, led Isabella right to this moment. If he had told Emma about your daughter's allergy, or even what to do when she has allergic reaction, neither of you would be this worried about her health.

Emma, having realizing the depth of the situation, sighed, "I haven't been able to get a hold of him and if it weren't for Isabella constantly talking about you and telling me your phone number to the point where I had it memorized, I wouldn't have known what to do in this situation."

You pitied the woman standing in front of you, especially as you also knew that it was not her fault. You cracked a smile, "she talks about me huh?"

"Oh yeah, she considers you the best mother in the world, and based on her stories, I agree with her."

Then, you heard Max calling your name, walking towards you in a rush. He instantly wrapped an arm around your waist as if it was an instinct, "is she okay?"

Emma stepped away, picking up her phone for another useless attempt of calling her boyfriend.

You wrapped both arms around Max, bringing him in a hug, "yeah, she's okay."

Once he pulled back, he cradled your face with his palms, "are you okay?" You smiled, and your eyes filled with unshed tears because of his question. "Much better now."

Then, Max noticed your outfit which happened to be the dress you were supposed to wear on your date. "Wow," he breathed, his gaze unwavering, taking you in.

He was also dressed up, wearing a suit with a bow tie, and you couldn't help but reach up to touch it, "cute," you commented, making him raise his brows.

"Cute?" He repeated with a questioning tone. You nodded, biting your bottom lip to prevent a smile. "Cute and handsome."

"You are beautiful," he replied, watching as you avert your eyes because his gaze was intense.

"Oh, Max, this is Emma," you decided to introduce them, and added, "she's the one who brought Isabella here."

Max raised an eyebrow in question, "I thought Isabella was with Tyler?" He asked, directed at you more than Emma.

"Well, he wasn't home when this happened, only Emma and Isabella," you stated, and Max gauged your emotions for a moment, quickly recognizing the underlying rage you had directed at your ex. Max knew you'd be discussing this later, in the safety of your own house, so he didn't ask you to elaborate. 

A nurse came by, "Isabella is now conscious, and asking for her parents," they stated, along with the room number.

Emma looked at you and Max with a fond smile, before turning towards you, "I think I should get going now that you're here."

A genuine smile graced your lips, "thank you, Emma, for bringing her here and for staying with her even without him."

"Of course, she's the cutest little girl and I'm glad to get to know her." Both of you stood still for a moment, debating on whether or not you should hug her. Then, without thinking twice you initiated a hug that was easily welcomed by her.

You waited till she left your sights before looking at Max, "let's go?" You held out your hand but he shrugged, "she's asking for her parents, you should go."

You stepped forward and grabbed his hand, "you're coming with me," you decided for him. Although Max didn't pull away, he asked, "what if she doesn't want to see me?"

"Trust me, she'll be happy to see you," you convinced him and walked towards the room she was admitted in while holding each other's hand.

When you entered, Isabella's smile widened once she spotted you and Max. "Mama, Maxy!" She cheered, though quieter than usual.

A nurse stood by her side, monitoring her health and checking the IV drip inserted into your daughter's arm.

"Oh my angel, how are you?" You dropped Max's hand and walked closer to her, lightly kissing her forehead. Instead of a verbal response, she formed a thumbs up with her hand.

Then she looked at the door again, "is daddy coming too?" Isabella asked, sounding hopeful. You shook your head, "no sweetheart, daddy is not coming."

Instead of the usual deflated mood, she shrugged, "it's okay, Maxy's here." She held her arms around asking for a hug, only flinching for a moment since she forgot about the drip connected to her arm.

Max quickly stepped forward, bending over to hug her. "All good, Bella?" He asked, once he felt her arms wrap around him tighter. She nodded for a moment then shook her head against him, "it hurts," she whispered.

He brought his hand up to ruffle her hair before pulling away, "you are a very brave girl."

"Really?" She asked, and scooted over a little so Max could sit beside her. He nodded, "of course! Very brave."

She beamed, snuggling closer to him before looking at you. "Mama, come here," she patted the other side, and surprisingly the three of you were able to fit on the very small hospital bed.

A nurse was constantly in the room, checking in on Isabella's health from time to time and since there weren't any repeated symptoms of an allergic reaction, the three of you were out of the hospital in a few hours.

Max followed you in his car, and carried your sleeping daughter inside the house. Instead of taking her straight to her bedroom, he laid her down on the couch in case she wakes up and needs her mother.

It was safe to say that you were not going too far away from her any time soon.

You were in the kitchen, filling up a glass of water when he returned. He stood behind you, with his hands trailing down your sides before resting on your waist, and his chin on your shoulder. "Did I tell you how stunning you look?"

You hummed, "maybe a few times but I don't mind hearing it again."

He turned you around in his grasp, "well, you look breathtakingly beautiful."

You blushed, "you and your compliments," you chuckled. "What's wrong with it?" He asked, but you shook your head, "nothing, it's just I'll never get bored of hearing it."

He smiled, "good, because you'll be hearing at least one every day."

You tilted your head to the side, "every day? Are you sure you won't run out?" He shook his head, "not unless you keep finding ways to make me speechless."

Both of you remained in that position for a moment but then you frowned, "I'm sorry,"

"For what?" He tilted your chin up as soon as you averted your gaze away from him. "We weren't able to go on the date."

Max let out a sound in protest, "I'm pretty sure your daughter's health matters so much more than our date night. Plus the night isn't over," he added with a smile, confusing you even further.

"What does that mean?" He parted away from you and it quickly made you miss the warmth that his body provided you. "Why don't you go change into something comfortable," he suggested, almost pushing you out of the kitchen.

You weren't opposed to the idea, so you went upstairs to change after checking on your daughter. You found the most comfortable pair of sweatpants and a shirt, and removed your makeup as well.

Walking back downstairs, you saw Max waiting at the bottom of the stairs for you. He had removed his blazer and bow tie, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt as well.

He held out his hand, waiting for your hand to hold his, and although you were confused, you wouldn't pass up an opportunity to hold his hand.

"It's not much, definitely not up to first date standards but we'll manage," he commented as he led you to the kitchen table where he had prepared two packets of instant noodles.

"I haven't been on a date in forever so anything you do will set my standards." You smiled when you noticed the lit candle.

"Well, then I will raise your standards next time by taking you out on a proper date." He held the chair out for you, waiting for you to sit before rounding the table and sitting down himself.

It took two minutes before Max moved his own chair right next to yours because he didn't want to sit on the opposite side. You chuckled at his antics but it was much appreciated.

"What's on your mind?" he asked once he saw you visibly thinking. You shrugged, "I don't think we should be discussing these thoughts on a first date."

"This is far from what a first date should be like, so there are no rules. I know you want to talk about what happened at the hospital," he prompted and he was spot on, so you agreed.

"I can't believe he actually left Isabella under Emma's supervision. Not that there is anything wrong with her, but it's not her responsibility!" Max nodded in agreement, "where was he?"

"In a fucking meeting," you exasperated, eating another forkful of the noodles. "It must've been very stressful for Emma," you sighed, finishing your short rant because you truly had no words for your ex's irresponsible behaviour.

Still, Max listened to every word. Once you were finished eating, he turned your chair towards him. "We can agree on the fact that he is an incompetent father."

"Yeah, I don't even know what would've happened if Emma wasn't there either. He surely wouldn't have left Bella alone right?"

Max shrugged, "hey, stop worrying about what could've happened. Bella's safe, she's okay." He placed a palm on your cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth in a soothing motion.

You nodded, "you're right." Making eye contact with him, you were quickly lost in his gaze. While it almost made you want to look away, you couldn't.

"You know," you started, wanting to divert away from the current topic. He hummed, urging you to go on.

"I don't really care for an extravagant date, all I really need is you. I'm happy with this, with us." He smiled, to the point where you could notice the creases forming at the corners.

"I'm happy with us too, but I will be taking you out on an extravagant date because you deserve it, as well as much more."

You rolled your eyes playfully, knowing that it would be hard to convince Max otherwise, but you could think of a few ways to try when the time comes.

"Thank you for being here with me," you added, needing him to know about your appreciation. Your words also hinted at all the moments he shared with you, and Isabella.

He seemed to understand your hint, "I'm glad to be here with you, both of you."

Taglist: (continuing the taglist in comments) @xjval @mrsmaybank13 @cherry-piee @urfavnoirette @solphin @burningcupcakefire @nessacarty1 @dreamsarebig @omgsuperstarg @fanficweasley @redbullgirly @llando4norris @wonnou @randomgirlnumber13 @dark-night-sky-99 @chanshintien @leilanixx @gisellesprettylies @peachiicherries @monsieurbacteria6 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @arian-directioner @distancedss @morenofilm @sachaa-ff @lighttsoutlewis @teamnovalak @casperlikej @sadg3 @d3kstar @lewisvinga @lpab @queenofmanydreams @glitterf1 @honethatty12 @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @its-avalon-08 @yourbane @oconswrld @noneofyourfbusinessworld @ssrcsm @softtina @hockeyboysarehot @formulaal @namgification @tallrock35 @bloodyymaryyy @formulanni @ellouisa17 @phantomxoxo

[absurdthirst]

Halloween Cowboy {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Idiots in love, crushing, putting your foot in your mouth, embarrassment, flirtation, Younger Joel, drinking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

Comments: Tommy and his girlfriend, your best friend, manage to get you and your sexy neighbor Joel at the same Halloween party.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Cmon man. You gotta come. Lindsey wants to meet you and I can’t keep makin’ up excuses for my big brother not wanting to meet my girl.” Tommy whines while he stands over Joel who is trying to read the plans for the bathroom redo.

“Tommy. I’m tryin’ - Jesus. Is it really that damn important?” He asks his brother after taking his glasses off of his nose.

“Yeah. Sarah is going to sleep over at her friend Tori’s house, right? You’ll be sitting on your own with the curtains closed to ward off trick or treaters while watching Dawn of the Dead for the hundredth time…you ain’t busy.” Tommy calls Joel out who signs and sets his glasses down on the table.

“Fine. Fine. If it’s that damn important I’ll go but, shit. I don’t have a costume.” He confesses and Tommy smirks, “that’s easy. You’re already wearing it.” He eyes the construction belt and hard hat and Joel scoffs but takes a second, “I got a cowboy hat. And boots.” He decides and Tommy snorts, “rodeo Joel is making an appearance. Haven’t seen that since high school when you were trying to impress Katie.” Joel huffs, trying to not snap at his brother at mentioning his ex wife whose parents owned a ranch.

“Sorry.” Tommy murmurs and Joel shrugs, “I’ll be there.” He promises, picking up his glasses again and Tommy grins, not mentioning the best part until he’s about to walk away. “Oh and your pretty neighbor will be there. Lindsey invited her.”

****

“Why do I have to go again?” You whine to Lindsey even as you are mixing together the cream cheese with the salsa to make roll ups. It’s one of your best appetizers to throw together quickly and are always a hit. She snorts and rolls her eyes at you. “You need to get out and socialize. You need to have some fun since you broke up with dickhead.” She had never hidden the fact that she thought your ex wasn’t good enough for you. Only now would you admit that she’s right, but you still huff at her. “What am I supposed to do? Pick up someone from your party and take them home?”

“Or you could use my guest room?” She waggles her eyebrows, “and I do believe the man you’ll be riding in there will be called Joel.” She smirks and you nearly choke, “no. No. I don’t - he doesn’t -” Lindsey giggles, “Tommy said the man watches your every damn move from his porch. Watches your ass when you walk past. Trust me, honey. The man wants you. He’s just got issues from his ex leaving.” She explains, knowing Tommy has briefly told her about what happened with Katie. “You don’t need to be his therapist to get some.” She says and nudges you.

****

Joel huffs as he looks at himself in the mirror. The checkered shirt is buttoned up unlike its usual openness when he has a t-shirt underneath. The large belt buckle his dad got him as a present was dug out from the back of his underwear drawer, and the boots are comfortable, worn in thankfully from regular use. The hat is on the side and he grabs it, putting it on his head to see how it looks. He looks like teenage Joel and that scares him. How eager he was to impress a girl. Too eager in fact that she left the first moment she could, leaving him with a two month old when he was twenty years old. “Shit.” He sighs, rubbing his jaw, knowing he will see you. He knows he’s jaded, he’s a single dad with issues and he knows you’d never want him. He’s too complicated. With a huff, he grabs the lasso he got from Tommy as a joke a few years ago and leaves his house to go to the party.

“I think real cuffs would have been better.” You huff to yourself, hating how the ties on these Wonder Woman wrist cuffs keep coming loose. The party hasn’t even started yet and you want to just go home. Not that Lindsey would let you. “Tie this for me.” You demand, holding your wrist out. “If I’m going to be Wonder Woman, I need to be a put together, sexy version of her.”

Joel isn't early. He doesn't like to be early to parties since he can't disappear into a crowd and leave early. He sighs after he parks his truck down the street, his boots clicking as he walks up the driveway until he is opening the door. The party is already underway and he squeezes past people drinking and making out and talking to try and find Tommy.

“Coming through, coming through!” You yank the platter of appetizers higher, needing to get over to the table and refill them although people won’t seem to get out of your way. The party is bigger than what Lindsey had told you it would be and she’s already glued to Tommy’s side, leaving you to kind of run things. Someone comes up to your right, just out of your vision as  you veer off to avoid a couple who are groping each other. “Shit!” You hiss, bumping into someone and having to spin around to keep the tray from hitting the ground and ruining the snacks. 

“Woah. Shit.” Joel hisses and barely catches the tray as you spin around and grab the other side. His eyes widen when he sees you, dressed like Wonder Woman with eyes wide and beautiful. “Hey.” He murmurs, keeping his grip on the tray and you offer him a gorgeous smile, “hey neighbor.” Someone knocks into him and he steadies the tray. “Let me help. Tell me where you want this and I’ll make sure no one knocks this over.” He promises, keeping his grip tight.

“Hey.” You smile breathlessly, a little shocked and release the tray to him because of that. “Um, yeah, uh, right over there.” You point to the table in the corner and try to figure out if you need to hide in embarrassment or get the man a drink for helping you out. He looks fucking delicious and Lindsey’s comments about riding him are fucking perfect considering Joel Miller is out here dressed up like a fucking cowboy. Your panties are going to be ruined tonight, thinking about him. 

Joel wrestles with the crowd to set the tray down and he turns to see you’ve followed him. “Who the hell did Tommy and Lindsey invite? The whole damn town?” He almost has to shout to compete with the chatter and the music. “Seems like it. I only made enough food for a small gathering.” You confess and Joel turns to look at the tray, “you did all that?” He asks and you nod, biting your lip. “Goddamn. You’re like Martha Stewart. But hot.” He adds until he flusters and reaches up to adjust his hat. “Uh, I mean, you look good. As Wonder Woman. I had this massive crush on Linda Carter when I was a kid and uh, yeah. You look good.” He repeats, silently cursing himself for being so lame as Sarah would say.

You want to laugh at the way Joel looks ready to punch himself in the face for being stupid, but you like seeing him like this. “Thanks.” You reach out and touch his arm. “You look really hot too. You’re going to be beating them off with a stick dressed like this, Miller.” You predict, knowing you would be the first in line if you had half a chance at him. “We’ll be dreaming of cowboy lullabies tonight.” 

Joel blushes, grateful for the cowboy hat to hide it, and he gets a sudden boost of confidence. “Yeah? You think I’d have a chance with someone at the party? Even though I got more baggage than Bush Airport?” He jokes and you scoff, “everyone has baggage.” He nods, staring at you for a moment and he opens his mouth to ask if you want to find somewhere quieter to talk but a hand slaps his shoulder and he turns to see his brother. “You made it! And dressed up!” Tommy exclaims, clearly a little drunk and his arm wrapped around a beautiful woman. “This is Lindsey. Baby, this is the mysterious big brother I’ve been telling you about.” Lindsey grins and holds her hand out, “it’s great to finally meet you, Joel. Tommy can’t shut up about you.” She teases before she says your name, “and she’s always talking about her sexy neighbor. You’re the talk of the town.” Lindsey teases and Joel’s eyes widen slightly as he looks towards you.

“Lindsey.” You groan your friend’s name, face heating up and you want the earth to open and swallow you whole. “I think you might need to drink some water.” You huff, snatching her cup out of her hand and quickly drinking it down yourself. Hoping that Joel doesn’t think that you are some kind of creepy stalker or some shit. 

Lindsey’s words make his stomach twist and Tommy smirks at him, knowing about his crush on his neighbor, and he squeezes Lindsey’s hand until she lets go and turns to look at Tommy. “Come on baby. Let’s get you another drink. Enjoy the party. See you in a bit. Mingle.” Tommy urges his older brother who has the habit of hiding in the corner. “Sure.” Joel nods and watches Tommy take Lindsey to the kitchen. “I need a drink.” Joel mutters to himself before he looks at you, “you know where the booze is?”

“Yeah,” Despite being embarrassed, you won’t let him go without a drink. “It’s out here.” You point to the patio door. “We’ve got a small pony keg if you want beer and then there’s tequila.” You huff out a laugh. “That’s what I plan on drinking.” You joke as you open the door. “Listen- uh, about what she said? I just- I don’t want you to think that I’m watching you all the time or something.” 

Joel looks at you as he follows you to the drinks table. He was shocked to hear you watch him and you being flustered makes his heart thump. “I’m watching you.” He confesses, “not in a creepy way but - but yeah. I like watching you.” He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly burning up in the flannel shirt.

You freeze for a second as you reach for a cup, relieved and slightly surprised to find out that Tommy and Lindsey were right. Now that you both have admitted embarrassing things, you laugh and shake your head. “I think we are way too sober right now.” You tease and waggle a cup at him. “What’ll you have before we discuss further?”

“Anything with alcohol.” He teases and picks up his own cup, filling it with cheap whiskey and topping it off with some Coke. “Happy Halloween.” He grins and hits your cup with his. “Happy Halloween, neighbor.” You smirk and he takes a sip of his drink, sighing at the sting of the whiskey.

You ask where Sarah is and listen while Joel explains about the sleepover, but you are really admiring the way he fills out that flannel shirt. It’s cut perfectly and makes his broad frame look even broader. You know the man is strong because you’ve seen the tools and materials he has to carry. “So why a cowboy and not a sexy construction worker?” You ask, grinning as the burn of the alcohol starts to fade and the heat runs through your veins.

“That seemed too obvious. Isn’t halloween about pretending to be something you’re not? Tonight, I’m not a single father construction worker. Tonight, I’m a cowboy looking for a hero.” He smirks as he flexes his fingers around the red solo cup.

It takes you a second to realize he’s referring to your wonder woman costume and you grin. “Not all heroes wear capes, Miller.” You remind him playfully and toss back the rest of your drink so you can pour both of you another. “I think you also underestimate how sexy single father construction workers are.” You huff. “But I like the idea of taking a cowboy for a ride.” 

Joel can’t believe how smooth he is being when usually he’s fumbling over his words with you. Maybe the costume has helped him regain some confidence after years of focusing on Sarah and not his love life. “Save a horse, ride a construction worker.” He winks and you giggle, making his heart clench. His eyes drag down your body when you turn and bend over to grab another bottle of tequila from under the drinks table and his cock twitches in his jeans.

You open the new bottle and pour you both a large drink. You don’t want to hang out by the booze all night, although it’s been pretty quiet right now. Soon enough there will be people charging out here to refill their own cups. “So are you ready to let your hair down?” You ask. 

Joel snorts, “I don’t think I’ve ever done that. Well, not since Sarah was born.” He confesses, glancing around at the sofa and he jerks his chin, “you wanna sit down?” He asks, his back starting to ache from the long work day and he’s anxious to get closer to you.

“Sure.” You point to the back yard. “Want to sit out there, or go upstairs?” You ask. “We can’t sit down in the living room with all those bodies in there.” It’s a subtle way to get him upstairs if you think that this could actually go somewhere, which it is looking like it might. 

“Let’s go upstairs. I’m too fucking old for this music.” He confesses with a chuckle and you nod, taking his hand to escort him upstairs. You’ve been to Tommy’s house a few times with Lindsey to get ready for nights out. Joel hopes his hand isn’t sweaty in yours and he lets you guide him away from the crowd to the quiet guest room. The bass from the music thumps below his feet as he sits down on the edge of the bed.

“You know you are a good dad, right?” You ask, wondering if he knows just how sexy him being a very involved dad is to you. “You care about Sarah, you listen to her.” You smirk. “Even if you don’t always know what you are doing.” 

He snorts, looking down at the drink in his hand, “I definitely don’t always know what I’m doing. I could handle Barbie dolls and hair bobbles but periods? Boys? It’s a little out of my league.” He admits, turning to look at you as you sit down beside him. You’re so beautiful, so understanding. You deserve way better than someone like him yet here you are. “Thanks for saying that though. She likes you. Loves your style and watching those stupid MTV shows with you.”

“She’s a good kid. Because of you.” You smile softly. “And you didn’t even use her to get laid.” You tease. “Do you know that women love a good dad? Our panties drop quick for a man who loves his children.”

Joel raises his eyebrows, “really?” He asks and you nod, giggling in a way that makes his cock twitch, already half hard in his jeans. You smile and he can’t help but lean in closer to you. “You gonna drop your panties for me, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice dropping lower for you.

“Fuck, that sounded so hot.” You whimper, biting your lip as your eyes slide down to his. You want to kiss him, but you aren’t brave enough yet. “I can’t.” You admit. “I’m not wearing any tonight.” You take his cup and yours and set it down on the nightstand as you talk. 

“Shit.” Joel hisses, his eyes widening slightly and he can’t stop himself even if he tried. He surges forward to press his lips to yours. His hat pushed back on his head as he cups your cheek and he pulls back after a second when you don’t respond and he frowns, wondering if he misread this.

You are frozen. Shocked that Joel, your sexy neighbor, is kissing you. When he pulls back, you see him frown, reaching out and cupping his face so you can lean in to kiss him yourself.

He quickly recovers and melts into the kiss, his hand cupping your neck to pull you closer and he gains confidence, sliding his tongue along your lower lip, pushing into your mouth when you grant him access.

Your breath catches and you groan into his mouth. Still in disbelief that Joel is kissing you. Hes a good kisser. His tongue slides along your, tangles with it and encourages you to kiss him back. Your stomach twists in knots and you lean into the kiss more, malting into him.

He loves the way you kiss him back just as eagerly and he slides his hand along your thigh, groaning at the feel of your skin under his palm. You’re so soft and he loves it. He’s imagined it more times than he’d care to admit.

You hadn’t worn any tights with your outfit. Not wanting to feel trapped or have another layer to take off another layer when you’ve been drinking. His hands on your skin feels amazing and you shift, moving to straddle him and you giggle into his mouth.

He groans when you straddle him, his hands immediately finding your ass to squeeze the flesh. So many times he’s imagined your ass when you’ve been outside in your shorts or leggings and now he gets to touch you. “Fuck.” He pants into your mouth, his cock hardening underneath you.

“We will get to that.” You promise, pulling away to press your lips to his jaw. Always wanting to kiss his neck for forever. It’s so kissable. “Imagined it so many times.”

Joel groans, tilting his head, and he slides his hand up to squeeze your breast. “Me too. So many damn times. Imagined you under me, over me. Being inside you. Jerked off enough damn times.” He reveals as you grind down onto him.

You moan softly, imagining him with his cock in his hand, panting your name. “I want to see that sometime.” You admit breathlessly. “Watch you jerk off.”

"Fuck. One day." He promises, grabbing your ass to lift you so he can spin and lay you down on the bed. "Look goddamn sexy in your costume." He groans, caressing your calf. "Tell me what you want, baby." He demands, reaching for the zipper of your boot.

“Want to ride you.” You decide. “Keep your cowboy hat and boots on.” You smirk and wink. “Want to see if you live up to the expectations I’ve built up seeing you wear that costume.”

He smirks, “I hope I can. It’s been a while.” He confesses as he reaches up to start unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his chest to your hungry gaze.

You reach up and caress his chest. “That doesn’t matter.” You promise. “I just want to feel you inside me.” He peels your boots off and reaches for your bottom. “I’m going to strip you down.” He promises and you nod. “Do it.”

He peels the costume from your body, his cock aching in his jeans at each inch that’s exposed to his hungry gaze, and he has to reach down to undo the buckle, opening his pants to allow himself some relief from the hard press of the zipper. “Shit. You’re gorgeous.” He murmurs, caressing your stomach until he’s reaching for the hem of the top, dragging it from your body to expose your tits. “Goddamn beautiful.” He murmurs when he tosses the top aside and dives down to take your nipple into his mouth as he kneels on the bed.

Your cry is loud but you know that no one in the party can hear you. The music is still thumping and you can hear the chattering. Not that you care, all you care about is him. His mouth feels so good on your nipple it hurts, making you whine when he flicks his tongue over it after biting down. “Joel.” You pant, tangling your fingers into his hair.

He loves hearing your moan and he bites down on the bud, lapping at it with his tongue, before he switches to the other one. His thumb and forefinger pinching your hardened nipple that’s slick with his spit.

You’ve never had someone spend so much time on your tits. Not without being inside you. You enjoy the attention, every pull of his mouth and pinch of your nipple makes your cunt throb around nothing and you are positively dripping.

His free hand slides up your inner thigh, caressing the skin there and he slides his touch higher so he can slide his fingers through your folds. “Fuck. You’re so wet.” He murmurs against your breast.

“So turned on.” You confess. You moan his name again when he continues to slowly stroke through your folds, fingers brushing against your clit. “Fuck baby.”

He groans, “me too. So fucking hard right now.” He confesses as he presses his fingers against your clit, wanting to hear you moan for him again.

You groan, reaching down and cupping him through his jeans. “Fuck.” You gasp, knowing that he will stretch you out when you feel how thick he is. “So hard.”

“Shit.” He hisses when you squeeze him and he slides his hand lower so he can push two thick digits into your weeping cunt, wanting to hear you gasp again. “Take me out.” He pleads, kissing your jaw, “need to feel your hand around him.”

You fumble with his zipper blindly, eager to feel the heft in your hand, to feel how soft and hard he is. Joel pulls his hips back to give you more room and you both groan in unison when he comes free from his underwear and lands into your palm.

He groans when you finally grip him in your soft palm, loving the way you squeeze him, and he’s so hard. He’s aching for you and his fingers work in and out of you, desperate to hear you cry out his name.

Your eyes slide closed, twisting your wrist to pump his cock as much as you can while his fingers destroy you. They are just as thick and wonderful as you imagined. Rough, his hands are calloused and imperfect from the manual labor of his job, scrubbing perfectly inside your walls to make you choke out his name every time he curls them deep.

Your choked version of his name has him groaning yours as you try to pump his cock in your soft hand. He twists his wrist, pressing his thumb to your clit to hear the sweet cry of your orgasm. He desperately wants it. His lips find yours again and he slides his tongue into your mouth, wanting to devour you.

Your hips roll up, eager to have him push his fingers deep every time he pulls them back. You feel that lovely tension curling in your stomach and you want more, crave it. He is just as overwhelming as you had imagined. Completely taking control and showing a confidence that is undeniably sexy.

Your walls flutter and clamp down on his fingers, making him grin against your chin, and he desperately wants you to fall apart for him. “Cum for me, baby.” He murmurs, nipping your jaw as he curls his fingers and presses his thumb against your clit.

It takes a few more pumps of his fingers before you are flying. Your walls lock down around his fingers and soak him with a wave of hot liquid juice that just continues to come in wave after wave while he continues to curl his fingers deep. Crying out his name loudly, nearly a sob and you shake under him.

“Holy fuck.” He groans when you grip his fingers in your walls and he loves how hot and wet you get. He can’t wait to feel that around his cock. “That’s it, baby. Such a good girl for me.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck as he works you through it.

You whimper, knowing that he could call you a good girl for the rest of your life and it would still make your stomach curl in pleasure. Your legs feel like jello when he finally pulls his fingers free and kisses your lips. “Fuck, Miller.” You pant. “Get on your back.”

He grunts as he shifts to lay against the pillows, pupils blown wide as he watches you while you shift to your wobbly knees. "So fucking gorgeous." He murmurs, his gaze dropping to your tits and he can't help reaching down to squeeze his hard cock.

You bite your lip when your thighs are straddling him, immediately moving and grinding down on his cock as soon as he moves his hand. Grinning when he moans your name and swivel your hips again. “Put your hat back on, cowboy.” You tease, leaning down and kissing him passionately.

He fumbles blindly to grab his hat from the nightstand and he puts it on while his tongue tangles with yours while you grind down onto him. “Shit. Co-condom?” He rasps, knowing it’s been forever and a day since he’s had sex but he wants you to be comfortable.

“Fuck.” You don’t have one, but you think you will cry if you have to stop right now. “I don’t- I’m clean.” You mumble against his lips, pulling back to look into his eyes. “I’m on birth control.”

“I’m clean and I - I trust you.” He promises, knowing he shouldn’t take the chance after Katie left him high and dry but he’s aching and he knows you wouldn’t lie to him. “Take what you want, baby.” He demands, his hands finding your ass to squeeze before he playfully slaps your cheeks, “ride a cowboy.”

You moan, reaching down and wrapping your fingers around his cock as you lift up to move him into position. “Gonna ride you ‘til you pass out.” You tease, winking at him right before you start to impale yourself on his length with a loud moan.

When you start to sink down onto his cock, he hisses and his fingers dig into your ass, exhaling through his nose to control himself as he watches your facial expressions while he stretches you out. “Feel good?” He smirks, voice heavy with lust as he slides one hand up to squeeze your breast.

“Yes, fuck.” Your eyes close and you clench down around him. “You’re so much thicker than my ex.” You admit breathlessly, not even thinking that he might not want to be reminded that you had just broken up with someone.

He chuckles, pinching your nipple. "Good, gonna make sure you don't remember his fucking name after tonight." He promises and kisses along your jaw, "want you to scream my name only."

“What ex?” You joke, groaning when he nibbles on your ear. “Fuck, Joel.” You sit up, bracing your hands on his chest and look down on him. He looks sexy under you. “You have a great cock.” You praise, starting to bounce on it. “I’m going cum all over it.”

Your words make him twitch inside you and he slaps your tit, wanting you to squeal. You start to rock on top of him and the sight is gorgeous but he reaches for the hat on his head. He takes it off and places it on your head. “Sexy as fuck.” He murmurs, watching you as your tits move.

You giggle as you ride him, leaning over to press against his chest and bounce harder. He feels incredible inside you, his cock punching deep enough to feel like he’s in your throat and you start to rock harder on him. “Fuck, fuck Joel!”

“That’s it, baby. Shit. Take what you want. God, you look so gorgeous ridin’ my cock.” He coos as his dark eyes trail down to watch where his cock disappears inside of you.

He doesn’t have the exaggerated drawl of a cowboy, but that gravely, raspy pitch to his voice makes your cunt clench around him as he praises you. Loving how he seems to be obsessed with you moving on top of him. Those hands caress you from your tits to your thighs.

Your moans make him twitch inside you and he digs his heels into the mattress, unable to stop himself from thrusting up into you with a groan. “You gonna cum for me, baby?” He asks, his hands sliding up to pinch your nipples and twist them slightly.

“Yessssss.” You hiss, clenching down around him and circling your hips. “Your fucking cock is so deep inside me.” You moan. “You’re in my throat. How the fuck did no one want to ride this cock every night?”

Joel doesn’t mention his ex at this moment but he’s been hesitant to get involved with anyone since she left him with a baby and walked out the door. It’s been hard and he’s finally taking time for himself. He’s going to let you take what you want from him. “Wanna see you cum again.” He rasps, groaning when you clench around him, getting closer.

“I will.” You moan, bouncing on his cock faster and gasping out when he pushes against a perfect spot deep inside you. “God I want to cum all over you.”

"Do it." He pleads, his jaw clenched as he tries to focus on not cumming before you. It's been too long since all he had was his hand. He groans and slides his hand between you, finding your clit to rub, needing you to fall apart for him.

That little nudge of his fingers is all you need. Crying out his name so loud it’s almost a scream you shake apart on top of him, clenching down on his cock and creaming all over it as your hips stutter and you collapse against his chest to press your lips to his breathlessly.

He pulls his hand from between you, his arms wrapping around you and he is desperate to cum. He thrusts up into you, hissing at the way you clench around him. So tight he can barely thrust up into you, and he groans as he pushes deep and finally lets go. He paints your walls with his hot cum, a pant of your name escapes his lips as the breath is knocked from him.

You pant as he relaxes underneath you. Both of you are trying to catch your breath. “Wow.” His cowboy hat is pushed back, falling off your back and you start to giggle in pleasure. Amazed at how good that was. “Good ride, cowboy.”

He chuckles, heart pounding in his chest as he caresses your back, “fuck, my fantasies didn’t do you justice. You are incredible.” He murmurs, kissing your shoulder and up your neck.

You hum in agreement. He cock is softening inside you but you don’t even have the strength to move off of him. “Much better than getting drunk downstairs.”

Joel smiles, “absolutely. I, uh, wouldn’t mind doing it again. And again.” He confesses with a softness to his voice as he caresses you. “I’ve wanted you for a while. Do you, maybe, uh, wanna go out sometime?” He asks, wanting you to know this isn’t just a quick fuck at a party.

“Of course I do.” You smirk, pulling back and giving him a small wink. “How else will I be able to ride this construction cowboy anytime I want?” You joke, happy that Lindsey had convinced you to come to this party tonight. This was much better than eating too much candy on your sofa all alone. “Although next time, I want to see that fucking tool belt on your hips. Do you know how sexy that is?”

Joel actually blushes and he shakes his head, "I didn't know. Tool belt...I can make that happen." He promises and leans in to kiss you again. You groan after you pull back, shifting off of him and he reaches down to tuck his soft cock away. "I know I come as a package deal but Sarah loves you. She thinks you are cool as shit. She will be part of the deal if we - you know?" He asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I know that.” You promise him. “Never would have thought any different. Sarah is your world. I respect that. She is the first priority in your life, like she should be. I would just like to spend some time with you, and her. I want to see where this could go.” You smile. “It’s not like we live far apart.” You remind him, knowing that it would be a good thing to be so close, unless things don’t work out.

Joel nods, “yeah. Yeah. I just - not everyone wants a single dad.” He admits and you reach out to caress his cheek, “a hot single dad. One I want to fuck.” You giggle and Joel blushes again, “I can definitely arrange that. You want another drink? Some snacks?” He offers, knowing he won’t want to leave the guest room for quite some time. You nod and he shifts off the bed, adjusting his jeans and he puts his shirt back on. He grabs his hat and places it on his head, a wink towards you as he opens the door, “I’ll be right back.” He promises and steps out of the guest room. Making his way downstairs barefoot, he passes couples and friends until he sees Tommy who asks where you are. “She’s upstairs.” Joel confesses, biting his lip, and Tommy smacks him on the shoulder. 

“Fucking finally, man. Good for you. You two make a cute couple. Don’t fuck it up.” Tommy raises his eyebrows and Joel nods, “only thing that’s gonna fuck this up is a goddamn zombie apocalypse.” He jokes and Tommy snorts, “you deserve to be happy, man.” Joel thanks him, grabbing the food and drinks to make his way back upstairs. He’s excited for the future. A future with you.

[mellowyellow236]

The TWST boys write letters to Yuu/The Prefect!

All of them except for Ortho+Checka are meant to be interpreted as romantic, but many can be interpreted as platonic as well. The reader is gender-neutral, but more feminine adjectives will be used when referring to them. Characters will probably be a bit OOC.

Minor spoilers for their respective books in each section, but I try to keep it as spoiler-free as I can, except for who overbloted. If anyone has any questions or comments, please leave an ask or comment :) All are under the cut.

NRC:

Heartslabyul:  

Riddle Rosehearts - 

My dearest rose, 

You are the loveliest person I have ever known. It is a miracle that you chose to get to know me, and even more so after I hurt you and your friends so deeply. I have made many mistakes, but you, my rose, look past them. I understand that you may choose to go home one day, but even so... 

Please just give me a moment of your time, a fraction of your thoughts, and I’ll be satisfied. Any inch of you that I can get, I want, even if you still believe me a tyrant. If it pleased you- No, if it only made you look my way, I would gladly break any rule of the queen’s or my mother’s. Understand that, my rose, and I am sure you’ll know what remains unsaid in this letter. 

Yours Truly, 

Riddle Rosehearts 

Trey Clover - 

Prefect, 

Hello. I wanted to thank you, first and foremost, for helping out Heartslabyul so much. You’ve been a very good influence on Ace and Duece, and it’s nice to see Cater open up to someone. Not to mention, Riddle’s been improving every day. I can’t even describe how much you’ve helped me... I just hope you know that I’ll always be grateful for what you’ve done. You’re welcome at Heartsabyul at any time. I have some donuts waiting for you if you want. 

From, 

Trey. 

Cater Diamond - 

Prefect, 

Heyyy! Whatcha doing right now? I’m sooooo happy that you came to NRC even if, like, all of the housewarden’s tried to ratio you. I do not subscribe to that, BTW. #NotCool, #Yikes-A-Tron. But,  like... On a more serious note, I am happy that I got to know you. It’s nice to have someone I can just be myself around. No drama, no expectations, just... Yeah. I know that you’re gonna leave at some point, and it’s almost a relief. You’re honest about it, which is something that many can’t say. 

Ugh, that was probs TMI! I’m not trying to trauma dump here, oops. There’s this cute cafe that opened up downtown, totally Magicam-worthy. You wanna meet up there sometime? 

- Cay-cay ♦️  

Ace Trapolla - 

Prefect!! 

I need your help! So, Trein’s got this super hard test coming up on Friday- Like, Riddle-got-a-99-last-year level of hard. Yeah, that’s without the extra credit, but STILL! That’s failure to the tyrant! So, you’ve got to come over to Heartslabyul right now and help me study. Pleaseeeee!!!! I’ll owe you one! 

Oh, and don’t bring Grim. Deuce’s also got plans, there’s no need to ask him. You know, in case that matters to you. 

See ya, 

Ace 

Deuce Spade - 

Dear Prefect, 

Hello, how are you doing? Can you believe that it’s already been so long since we became friends? When we broke that chandelier, I was ready to never talk to you again... But now look at us! I’m on my way to becoming an honor student, and you’re working on finding your way home! I’m happy that you’re going to be able to go soon, I know how bad it feels not to be able to see your family (and probably friends in your case) after so long away, but also sad that you’ll be leaving us. 

I’ve got it! Let’s get your ghost camera, and we’ll take lots of photos of us all over campus! Two of each, so that way no matter what, both of us will always remember what we went through together. That sounds like a good idea, right? 

From, 

Duece 

Savanaclaw: 

Leona Kingscholar - 

Herbivore, 

Hey. You’re an idiot, you know that? You’re stupid and impulsive and don’t know when to quit or give up. That’s why you keep looking for me in the botanical gardens, right? You just don’t know when to stop. I’m sure that you’ll realize I’m not worth your effort soon enough. But until then, you have to come to see me more often. You’re my pillow, I don’t get good enough sleep if you’re not there. 

I’m in the usual place. Get over here as soon as possible. 

- Leona 

Ruggie Bucchi - 

Hiya, Prefect... 

I’ve been thinking, and you should let me come over to Ramshackle and fix the place up for you. No upfront cost, of course, but... I want the right to use the kitchen as I please, whenever I please. 

Why, you’re asking? Shishishi... Not telling. You’ve just got to trust me on this, I’ll make it worth your while. Then again, maybe I’ll just blow the kitchen up and you’ll have to live at Savanclaw again! That’d be fun, huh? 

If you don’t want me to, ya better give up your kitchen for a little while! I’ll get that microwave up and running again in no time.

- Ruggie 

Jack Howl - 

Dear Prefect, 

Hello, have you been feeling alright? I’ve noticed that Crowley isn’t the best provider of food. While on my morning runs, I’ve noticed Grim loudly talking about how he doesn’t have enough tuna. He does it pretty often. So, I’ve thought of a solution; You could try eating breakfast with me. I always get big portions, so you could have some. If you want, I could even try lifting you and carrying you places. I need to get better strength training anyway, and then you’ll have a buddy to get stronger with. It’s always better to have a friend with you. 

From, 

Jack 

Octavinelle: 

Azul Ashengrotto - 

My Pearl, 

Allow me to start this letter by saying that you are truly the crown jewel of my riches and that none can replace your beauty. You are the loveliest, most perfect little pearl, and I adore you with my whole heart. And yet, I cannot seem to convince myself that you feel the same. You say you do, and even if it is a crime to believe your lips hold lies, I cannot believe that to be true. If it was, why? Not just why you would tell me- A scheming man who has hurt you and your friends- that I hold the keys to your heart, but why you would choose what I hold underneath. I’m no good for you in terms of personality or how I look, and yet... You still hold me dear. And for that alone, I want to take you to the Coral Sea where my home lies, but not for a deal this time. Just... Because I want you and my mother in the same place. The two most important people to me meeting... That’s the best thing I can think of, to be honest. 

With Love, 

Azul Ashengrotto 

Jade Leech - 

Dearest Prefect, 

It has come to my attention that you haven’t had a chance to enjoy a proper mushroom dish since arriving in Twisted Wonderland. Now, that will not do for much longer. This letter should contain a box with three containers worth of mushroom dishes. You are to eat them and write back to me with what you thought of each of them. In return, I shall continue to provide you with free food. 

Do be warned, however, that they should all be eaten as fast as possible once you get them in case my brother chooses to throw them out. Also, so that way Grim cannot eat them. I would not recommend it for a cat.

Kind Regards, 

Jade Leech 

Floyd Leech - 

Shrimpy!!!!!! 

You and me. In the courtyard. Now. 

I’m going to squeeze you. 

🐬°˖𓍢✨໋ 🐋✧°.🐟⋆ 

🦐🥢🥢🥢🥢🧨 

I’ll see you later if you want me to or not. 

- Floyd <3333333 

Scarabia: 

Kalim Al-Asim - 

Hello!!!!

I love you!!! I love you, I love you, I love you! You’re the most wonderful person in this school, and you’ve done so much for both me and Jamil! It would be silly for me not to love you. I love how your hair looked in the wind when we went on that carpet ride, I love how you looked in the school’s uniform and how you looked when you tried on my dorms, and I love how you look no matter how you dress because you’re a beautiful person inside and out! I love you, and nothing can change that! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ 

Hugs and kisses, 

Kalim Al-Asim 

P.S. Let’s go on another magic carpet ride soon, okay? I want to show you how pretty the moon looks when it’s full and you’re flying!

Jamil Viper - 

Dear Prefect,

Thank you for saving me when I overblotted. I am aware that what I did was wrong, and I apologize. I hope you can understand where I’m coming from. Either way, I feel as though I must do something more for you to show you that. Please come to Scarabia tonight. I will make you a special dinner if you do. Please, don’t tell Kalim. I want... something special, for the two of us this time. 

See you later, 

Jamil Viper

Pomefiore: 

Vil Schoenheit - 

My Dearest Potato, 

I regret to inform you that you have bewitched me. So much so that I willingly took on a role as a villain in this next movie. The villain falls in love with the hero’s love interest, and then, in a “shocking” turn of events, she chooses the villain to stand by. Of course, they’re both defeated, the hero gets with his childhood friend in some lesson of how love will always be waiting for you, whatever. But I still chose it, even if Neige plays the hero. 

I finally have a love interest, and they remind me of you. You could have stood by his side, you know. You should have. I poisoned him; That action speaks for itself. And yet, you decided to stay with me. Just like how that villain in this story gets the girl the hero originally wanted. 

I’ve won your heart as well, haven’t I? 

Sincerely, 

Vil Schoenheit 

Rook Hunt - 

Trickster, 

Bonjour, mon amour! I could not resist sending you another letter. You see my darling, I long for you like I long for the sunset on a hot day, for an oasis in a desert, for a hint of rain during the dry season, for the sun during the days when it pours. I'd imagine you'd taste like the rain as well, Trickster, and if given the chance, I'd taste again and again, in an attempt to satiate more than just my curiosity. 

Oh, Trickster, have you any idea how you’ve bewitched me? Why, just the sight of you is enough to send me spiraling, wishing for the smallest fraction of a chance that my affections are shared. How cruel is fate, to deny me the right to live and die within your arms? La petite mort would be heaven if it was with you, but death would truly come for me if it wasn’t. 

Je t'aime de tout mon coeur, 

Le Chasseur D'Armour 

Epel Felmeir - 

Prefect, 

I need some help. I found out that milk can make ya grow stronger, and also help you get taller. However, Vil has banned me from drinking it because I drank a carton in two days. Something about it raising my cholesterol or making me break out, I don’t care. So, I need to keep it at Ramshackle. That’s okay with you, right? Well, I sure hope it is, cause it’s getting in there if ya want it to or not! I’ll see ya soon, just make sure it’s in the fridge. I’ll get ya some of my family’s apple juice in return, it’ll be good. I reckon ya liked it last time. 

Epel 

Ignihyde: 

Idia Shroud - 

Prefect, 

Get to my room, and fast. There’s an event taking place, and I need a player two. This one requires another person to be in the same room, so I can’t ask any of my mutuals, and you’re the only one I trust with this. I can’t ask Ortho either, don’t ask why. 

Also I recently got pink lights in my room like those normies. That’s why everything looks kind of pink, it’s not my hair. Just in case you were wondering if I was embarrassed or whatever, you’re wrong. Just get over here ASAP, no time to waste. 

- Gloomurai 

Ortho Shroud - 

Hello, how are you? ( ˵ •̀ ᴗ •́˵) I am very happy to get a chance to talk with you. I have recently learned how to type out these little faces called ‘kaomoji’ that my big brother loves. Here are some of my favorites: 

♡✧( •⌄• ) 

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ 

•ω• 

ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ - This one is a cat! 

I would like to share more with you. Please come to Ignihyde so I can teach you how to get them on your phone as well. I can provide free updates while you’re here if needed. (✿˶◕‿◕˶人◕ᴗ◕✿) 

Sent To: PerfectPrefect@email.com 

Date: XX/XX/XXXX 

Return Email: orthoshroud2@email.com 

Diasomnia: 

Malleus Dracona - 

My Dearest Child Of Man, 

If Longing was painful, how much farther would I have to fall to crash and burn at your feet? The only answer I can give is that I already would have. I would build monuments in your name and would offer you the world and more if only you would say you loved me back. 

Could this be considered love? Could these feelings I hold deep within my heart, only to divulge in the darkest hours of the night with none but the stars and you to bear witness to my passion, be a form of love? Or is this simply my yearning, a longing for your heart, and wanting to have someone to call my own? 

The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew that you were the one I wanted next. How I wish I could scream your name from the rooftop, and raise my voice in song only to sing your praises. You have the face of an angel, and I am sure that you must have the mind of one as well, for even if the voices in your head remind you of nothing more than pain and suffering, they have still been able to mold you into the perfection you are today. But maybe you have devils as well, trying to smite you as you sleep, but just as I do all of your angels, I will pick them up and kiss their heads if they are a part of someone I care for so much. You are perfection, Child of Man, and this dragon wishes only to live with the crumbs of affection as my treasures. 

Yours Until The End Of Eternity, 

Prince Malleus Dracona Of Briar Valley Hornton 

Lilia Vanrouge - (Okay so for Lilia I could have SWORN that he calls the prefect ‘Beastie,’ but I can find that nowhere. Literally at all, no one seems to have used it for him, but I know that I’ve seen at least one person do it. I now think that it’s a headcanon thing but I’m not sure, if anyone knows who did this or if it’s canon, please tell me. I’ve been searching for far too long and I am in too deep.)

Beastie, 

Hello, my darling~! I have an easy-peasy little request for you, m’kay? You just need to travel over to Diasomnia, and then... I’ll make you a meal! Malleus has been out trying to find this one gargoyle on campus all day since I brought up wanting to learn a new recipe, and Sebek and Silver both ran off earlier to go help him. I don’t know how to tell them that the gargoyle they’re looking for definitely isn’t at Night Raven College. Raising kids is quite hard, especially when things like this come up... 

But you’ll be there for me, won’t you, Beastie? Pretty please? I’ll see you tonight if you want to, a little date if you feel up to it. Mwah! 

xoxo, 

Lilia 

Silver “Vanrouge” - 

Dear Prefect, 

I had the most wonderful dream. I think I did, at least. I can’t remember it, but I remember how familiar these eyes were, and I knew it was you as soon as I awoke. And I know it's true, that dreams are seldom what they seem... But if I know how you are, then I know what you'll do; You'll look at me the same way you did once upon inside my dreams. And tell me all about the animals that you found with me when I awoke. What I wouldn’t give to hear you tell me about every birdie that comes to me; I’d be willing to fall asleep in the forest every day if only to hear you cooing to the birds when I come to. I wonder if each little bird has someone to sing sweet things to, a little love melody like what I long to play for you one day. Well, either way, I’m growing sleepy now. The effects of my curse will soon be on me once more. I’ll see you either later today or tomorrow, depending on how long I’m asleep. If you need me or simply wish to keep me company, I’m currently resting in the woods. 

Best Wishes, 

Silver 

Sebek Zigvolt - 

HUMAN! 

I have something to show you; A new notebook to be filled, gifted to me by Master Lilia. He said that it is a ‘scrapbook’, which humans fill up with pictures and drawings of themselves and their friends. To fulfill the purpose of this illustrious gift, you must come to Diasomnia at once! You shall be the first of the first years to be added, along with Silver. Prepare enough of those photographs you have to fill half of the book. The other shall be dedicated to Wakasama! 

Sincerely, 

Sebek Zigvolt  

RSA+NBC: 

Che’nya - 

Prefect... 

When are you going to visit RSA, huh? It would be purrr-fect to get a chance to see you again. You’re quite the pretty purr-son, dontcha think? Or maybe I’ll just drop by at the next unbirthday party... Riddle and Trey would like that, but I wonder what you’d think. Hum-hum-hummm... 

Kitty Kisses, 

Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker <3 

Neige Leblanche - (The Reader is called NRC’s ‘princess’ in this one, but not called a woman or anything)

My Dearest, 

Hello! How are you fairing? Have you been doing okay since the VDC? I know that you looked pretty shaken up back then, so I wanted to make sure that you’ve been okay. After all, you’re NRC’s princess! As far as I can tell, anyway. I’m happy that there’s someone around Vil like you, he always looked like he needed a good cheering up. And you’re like a fairytale! Such pretty hair and eyes and skin; Oh, I’d ride away with you on a white horse if I could! 

Ah, that’s odd to say to someone I don’t know very well, isn’t it? I’m sorry, that’s my fault. You still want to be friends, right? If you do, please come visit me at some point. Or, just send me a letter back. I’ll make sure that you get priority over any fan letter. 

Love, 

Neige Leblanche 

Rollo Flamme -

Mon Amour, 

There are times I wish I could tear you down and take you apart only to sew you back together. Rip you to shreds only to tenderly put each piece back where it should be. Drink from you until there's nothing left and then fill you up with all of the love I could offer, make you mine and mine alone. Those greedy thoughts shouldn't even make their way onto this paper, shouldn’t even be in my head, and yet here I am, penning them in a letter never to be sent. 

I truly wish you never see these letters, for I'd hate to be the reason your face turns to disgust, even if for a moment. Of course, I don't regret writing them. You will never read them, after all, but I believe I should get my thoughts out like this rather than bottle them up, lest I do something stupid and let you see them. I pray that you will never have to see me in a state like how I write to you, over my bedside table in the dead of night, eyes barely open and breath still recovering from dreams of a sweeter pleasure than I should sully your name with. 

I mention those dreams I have of you a lot, it seems, although I mean it in the most innocent way possible. Ever since I met you, you've infested my dreams and wormed your way into my heart like a parasite I can't rid myself of. My dreams are all of the sweet moments I have longed for and never gotten. I only have eyes for you, after all, and a saint may never lie with a sinner, lest they become one as well. 

Bonus: 

Checka Kingscholar - 

To Perfect, 

Hello! I am Checka Kingscholar. I am fiv years old. I like my unca. I like my dad and I love my mom. I love you! Goodbye! •ᴗ•

[moremaybank]

tending to jj's cuts and bruises after he defends your honour... (based on this post and this request) [0.8k]

"Ow."

Your hands work diligently at the cut etched across his cheekbone from your stance between his legs. For a moment, one wanders off, stroking his non-battered cheek in a silent apology for the added pain.

"You did this to yourself," you state matter-of-factly. "No one told you to turn into the Hulk."

"Well, you don't have to be mean about it."

"I'm not trying to be mean. I just don't understand why you can't let shit go sometimes."

You move on to his split lip. A jagged, dark red line cuts through the mouth that you think about far too often. You ache to kiss it, believing that maybe you occupy the healing powers he so obviously needs, but then you think better of it.

There's no way he feels it too.

You dab a wet towel at his lip, cleaning off the dried blood, and once his mouth is free, he chooses to defend himself, thankfully with his words this go around.

"You didn't hear what he said about you, Y/N/N. I wasn't about to jus' let him get away with that shit."

Your eyes meet his, and you pause your movements. Though you appreciated his loyalty and how he'd always stick up for you no matter the cost, you never enjoy when he actually goes to those great lengths just to protect you.

Simply having him in your corner was more than you could ever ask for.

"Kelce is an idiot. I don't care what he has to say about me, and you shouldn't either."

"Well, I do. He's lucky he didn't leave in a bodybag."

Your eyes narrow at him. "You're impossible."

"'M jus' sayin," he says. His tender and sore hands travel up the sides of your thighs, warmth blossoming through you in their wake. He gives your flesh a squeeze. Funnily enough, he can no longer feel the pain flashing through them like lightning bolts now that he's touching you. "I'll never let anyone say or do anythin' to hurt you, princess. I'll always protect you."

You feel the warmth bloom in your cheeks, and you're eternally glad that he isn't holding your face the way he always does. You'd be busted if he were.

You offer him a small smile, one you can't suppress. How can you be expected to after those sentiments?

"Look, I know I probably sound like a broken record, but you can't keep putting yourself in the position to get in trouble. You're not a kid anymore, and you've had enough run-ins with the law as it is."

"'M not scared of gettin' in shit, Y/N/N."

"I'm serious," you frown down at him.

"So am I. Fuck the opps."

You scoff, wanting to wipe that devilish smirk off his face. "You sound like Pope."

"Who d'you think taught him that?"

You know he thinks this is all just a joke. Not the defending you part, but the getting in trouble with the law part. He'll always do what he feels he needs to, regardless of the possible consequences. It's just how he is. Still, you don't think it's a joke. You hate how Shoupe and the rest of them take all his indiscretions and use it as ammo to remind him that he'll never escape the southside. You'd hate to be the reason that he 'proves them right.'

"J, I mean it." You set the items that occupy your hands down on the marble counter, and grab his face in your hands, careful of his cuts and bruises. "All I'm asking is that you try and keep it together. Please. I don't like watching you get hurt."

He's silent for a moment, analyzing your words and the sincere look on your face. Yeah, you're his best friend, but it's always a nice reminder that someone actually wants to look out for him and care for him.

He likes it even better when it's you who's doing so.

The corners of his lips turn up and his hands migrate to the backs of your thighs. He uses his hold on you to urge you closer. "You're worried about me."

You give him an incredulous look. "Yes, JJ. I worry about you. After all this time, I don't even know why you question that."

"'Cause you're the only one who does."

You melt inside, and you're sure you do so on the outside as well. Your eyes soften, and to distract him from it, you go back to cleaning him up, reaching for some q-tips and the disinfectant.

His eyes flutter closed when you touch him again.

"If you wanted attention, you coulda just said so," you joke, unable to resist poking fun at him.

"Shut up," he says, laughing softly. His eyes are open again, and he looks up at you so tenderly that he wants to tell you what he's been feeling all this time.

I love you.

It's on the tip of his tongue, but when he wills it to leave his mouth, they refuse him.

He goes for the next best thing.

"Look, I'll try to...control myself. No promises, though."

A small smile graces your lips. "Thank you."

concepts ; concepts (ii)

[farshootergotme]

Now that I have the confidence to send you asks, fully expect me to bug you periodically from here on out

Anyways- do you think Dick qualifies as a scapegoat? Cause I 100% think he's a scapegoat. People always try to shove the 'golden child' role onto Dick, and it always confused me cause like. He doesn't fit it at all if you actually look into what a golden child is.

Dick is definitely one of the scapegoats of the batfamily (Jason being the other) and it makes me sad that people always label him a golden child when he's the exact opposite. Seriously- he's hit, beaten, unfairly blamed, lashed out at, not told about important things (Jason or being replaced, Jason dying, Jason's funeral, probably other things, i wouldn't be surprised), etc. Definition of a scapegoat to me.

It's also why I hesitate to label him the 'favorite' even when the comics try to say otherwise. Mostly because... favorite children aren't really treated this way. Favorite weapon, maybe, as I've said in a post I've made before, but that's it. Bruce wouldn't kill for him or any of his kids. He's come close, yeah, but he's also come close to killing the Joker too after Jason's death and had to be threatened into not doing it. Every time, it's in a strong surge of emotion, and the second Bruce thinks rationally- well, he doesn't do it. Dick isn't at all unique, Bruce wouldn't kill for him either.

I think Bruce is the most proud of Dick, and has a unique relationship with him due to knowing him the longest and the parentification, but I don't think that makes him the favorite. Maybe to the other batkids, but probably not in reality.

I don't think Bruce really HAS a favorite- Dick is probably the closest to it, but still.

Though, if you wanna play around with angst and fanon ideas, maybe both Dick and Jason are the favorites and that's why Bruce treats them the worst? Dunno, it'd make a fun fic, even if it's not really grounded in canon (though I ignore RHATO and Comic UTRH).

Idk. Just,, gestures. Dick is a scapegoat to me.

Hope my 2 am rambling made sense lol

Okay, I see you, but I'll argue:

Dick Grayson is both the scapegoat and the golden child.

Now, you might not believe this since he doesn't tend to be both at the same time, and it isn't common for these roles to exist within the same individual. But Dick Grayson is praised and favored as much as he's blamed and pushed.

A golden child is the one who carries most of the expectations in the family. The parent expects them to be perfect, make no mistakes, take on roles they're pushed into with no issue (thus parentification can happen), and continue on and on to be good enough and meet the criteria so they don't make the parent disappointed.

The love is conditional hence they develop this unhealthy perfectionism and self-esteem and self-worth issues that will follow them till adulthood even when they're out of that environment and living their own lives.

The reason why a parent might choose a specific child (or children) to be the favored one is because they tend to see this child as an extension of themselves. And consequential to this, they will project their insecurities onto said child and force them to improve—be the best—where they fall short. All of their capabilities are overvalued, making the parent see them as special and much better than the rest, causing the unrealistic expectations a child must hold and fulfill so as not to “fail” their parent(s).

Although this child might seem like the favorite and who could do no wrong on the outside, the love they receive isn't something they can take for granted.

When a golden child underperforms or isn't as good as they're expected, the parent’s demeanor might change. They will feel the disappointment and fear this might cause the treatment they get to change. Sometimes the child might even fear abandonment or rejection from their parent as a result of their failures.

The mix of all this turns into a person who's over-competent, hard-working and someone that tends to take charge of things so they aren't at risk of failing, making them ‘natural’ leaders in any group they might be part of.

Sounding familiar yet?

Now, let's move on to the scapegoat:

A scapegoat child is the one that is blamed by all the things that go wrong in the family. They are constantly criticized and shamed by things they might've not even been part of, but somehow they're now involved and taking all the blame for the others so there are no consequences for anyone but them.

(All the blame also messes with their perception of certain events, making them prone to self-blame for the problems that occur in the family or their behaviors towards them.)

The scapegoating in the family may be due to subconscious projection from the parent when they're dealing with difficult emotions such as shame, guilt, rage, etc. They feel threatened by their own feelings and therefore they will try to escape from them by externalizing those feelings and making them their scapegoat’s problem.

Because of this treatment, the scapegoat might become an outsider in the family, feeling excluded and isolated from the rest. And for this, when push comes to shove and they're going through a rough patch, they will not have any reliable support they can go to inside the family as they'll be ignored or otherwise unfairly treated, having their feelings be invalidated.

Like the golden child, there's some aspects the scapegoat shares with the former:

Being treated differently by the parent/family.

Having unrealistic expectations placed upon them.

Being pushed into roles or responsibilities the child isn't meant to take.

Fear of expressing how they feel.

Self-worth issues and low self-esteem.

Although they're usually roles that are considered opposites, they aren't as incompatible as one might think. A child can alternate between being a scapegoat or the golden child, and this usually happens when the parent is very emotionally unstable, commonly due to a disorder such as narcissistic personality disorder (NPD) or borderline personality disorder (BPD).

(I have so many thoughts about the latter applying to Bruce, but I will refrain from elaborating to not make this longer than it needs to be)

Having all I've said until now in consideration, I'm sure you've noticed how Dick meets both criterias—dare I say the golden child more often than the scapegoat.

Bruce is always speaking about how Dick is “better than him” and “the thing he's ever done right”, but in both of these statements you can see he's taking who Dick is and making it as something that's part of him, comparing Dick's accomplishments to his and putting him in this pedestal, and because of this projection happens and Bruce starts seeing Dick as an extension of himself.

This is why, when he or Dick fail, Dick will suddenly become the scapegoat, contrasting with the former golden child position he was in.

Here you can see the high expectations, praise for his accomplishments, his siblings feeling like Dick is better than them (i.e. treated differently than the rest), and you can also see how when he doesn't meet the expectations, he's met with disappointment (see: Alfred disappointed he's not as bright as he usually is) or judgment (see: Bruce angry at him because he isn't committing to his cause as much as he expects him to).

And these are examples of Bruce being too harsh on Dick and expecting him to do better, blaming him for his brother's death, and in result Dick having a habit of blaming himself and accepting mistreatment, thinking it must be his fault.

More often than not, Dick is put on a pedestal by his family and even his friends sometimes. They praise and love him, but when there's occasions in which he's acting less than perfect, the treatment towards him can change.

Dick Grayson can be the golden child as much as he can be the scapegoat.

[sanguineterrain]

Hi again 😊 You suggested i could send another prompt, sooo… maybe you & Jason have been together awhile, and you’re kidnapped by (choose your villain) and Jason is worried and frantic but trying to not show it of course, and negotiating for your safety? Ends up rescuing you of course, in whichever way you prefer, and then they find comfort in each-other 💗

I haven’t had time or energy to work on my WIP lately so this is very lovely and gratifying 😂👌🏻💗

aghh that's the worst! wishing you luck on your wip!! i'm glad you like these <3 requests are open for jason, dick, and MAWS!clark kent btw!

this one is very batfam focused hehehe. ft dramatic ass jason and his surprise kidnapped fiancé lol.

jason todd x gn!reader. tw: violence, kidnapped reader, reader is pushed off a building for a moment but they're okay dw <3, batfam feels, jason being a protective bf, bruce being a GOOD DAD! c:

****

"Actually, if we're being honest, if anyone has the most trauma in this family, it's—"

Batman grunts. "Really, Spoiler, not now."

The comm line crackles as Stephanie sniffs. "Fine. Stay in denial."

"Bats."

Every bat and bird in Gotham goes still.

"Hood?" Barbara asks carefully, already tracking his comm link.

"Oracle," he says, clipped. "I'm gonna get right to it: I need a favor. Can you help? Yes or no."

"Little Wing, where have you been?" Dick asks. "We've all—"

"Shut up, Nightwing," Jason growls. "Either you help me or not. Which is it?"

"We'll help you, Hood," Bruce says, voice washing over Jason like a balm.

Jason takes a deep breath. It's okay. He'll find you. Batman always beats the bad guys.

He fiddles with his jacket zipper. Moments tick by. Dick remains crouched on a rooftop. Damian is similarly poised.

"My..." Jason swallows. "My... fiancé's been taken."

The comm explodes with noise. Jason winces and digs the bud out of his ear for several seconds.

"Fiancé?!"

"You're getting married—"

"When was this—"

"Who are—"

"Enough," Jason growls, finally shoving the bud back into his ear. "I don't have fucking time for this. Yes, I am engaged, and they've been taken. No more questions."

"Tt. You are engaged? Impossible. Batman, clearly someone has hacked the line pretending to be Hood," Damian says, folding his arms.

Jason rolls his eyes. "Believe it or not, demon bird, I found someone crazy enough to marry me."

"Little Wing, I—I'm really proud of—"

"Shut up!" Jason pinches the bridge of his nose. This was a bad idea. You're in trouble, and Jason intends to tear Gotham apart to find you, but involving his family? Has he really stooped so low...

Deep breath. His focus is you. You're the only person that matters.

"Look, I'm telling you because Oracle's tracking me anyway, and B would snoop until he figured out who I'm really looking for, so it's easier to just tell you. But make no mistake: you aren't my family, and you won't see us again after tonight."

Bruce's throat tightens. His cape flutters in the wind.

"Very well," he says after a couple beats. "Last known location?"

"I'm sending you the address now. I've retraced my steps a hundred times though, and I can't—" Jason grits his teeth. He can't tear up or break things, not again. "Fuck. I can't fucking find them, B. I... I don't know if-if maybe I'm too late—"

"You're not," Dick says automatically. "We'll find them, Little Wing. We'll bring them home."

****

Your head is on fire.

It feels like there's a thousand needles pelting your skull. Whatever you were drugged with, it's hard stuff, and it hasn't worn away yet.

You look up; you're gagged and tied to some kind of support beam. As your vision clears, you see that you're in one of the new high rise-in-progress. Only the skeleton of the building has been completed because if Bruce Wayne isn't involved, construction takes forever to complete.

Faintly, you recall Jason mentioning something about a construction company leaving half finished projects across the country and using them as havens for criminal activities.

Yeah. This is not good.

"Where the fuck is he?" The voice echoes across the concrete floor foundation.

"Mike, we sent—"

"I don't give a fuck what you did; obviously, you screwed up! He's not coming!"

You close your eyes, trying not to throw up on your gag. Your head spins when you open your eyes again.

Who's not coming? Your rescuer? Or somebody worse than your kidnappers?

You try to take a deep breath, but your chest tightens instead.

"Fine," Mike barks in the adjacent room. "If that hooded psychopath doesn't show up, we'll just dump this one. That'll send a message. Prepare the explosives."

A door swings open, and you flinch. You cower, shrinking from the figure.

"You better hope he shows," the guy growls, and cocks his gun. "Your boyfriend is the only reason you're still alive. It'll be such fun to watch him fall to his death, don't you think?"

You try not to show your swelling panic. How does he know about you and Jason? And you have to warn him. Explosives. Jason's walking straight into a trap, without backup, because you know he'll be alone. He always works alone.

Mike sneers and waves the gun around.

"Oh, yeah. I know your secrets. In bed with Gotham's biggest crime lord. You must be his favorite. I can see why."

"Mike!" someone shouts. "We got company!"

Mike's eyes blaze cruelly. "Showtime. You're coming with me."

You thrash as hard as you can because if there's one thing Jason taught you, it's to always fight back.

Mike backhands you hard enough to send you sprawling. Your hands are bound, so you can't catch yourself, and you hit your head on the concrete. Blood pools in your gums.

"Try that shit again, bitch," he snarls, and hefts you up.

He drags you up a flight of stairs. Your head throbs, and now your jaw aches. You're too dizzy to try to fight back again.

You end up on the roof, which is a miasma of beams and wooden lattices. Wind cuts through your face, and you close your eyes so they don't water.

"Hood!" Mike crows. "Wonderful of you to join us!"

"Wish I could say the same," Jason says, and your heart leaps at the sound of his voice.

You start to shout through your gag because you have to warn him. It's a trap, he'll kill you both—

Mike wraps his arm around your throat and squeezes. Air stops, and you choke on your cries.

"I'll kill you," Jason snarls, and you know he wants to say more, but he's trying to protect you. "Let them go and maybe I won't break every bone in your body."

"Oh, don't worry. You two will be reunited soon. What is it they say? Love blinds you?"

"Michael Cassidy," a new voice says, deep and deadly. "Let go of the hostage. We can talk this out."

You crack open your eyes. Is that... Batman? And Robin? And... Nightwing? What—

The arm around your throat tightens and you gasp for air as you start to choke for real. Oh God. Batman's going to die because of you.

"You involved Batman?" Mike snarls, now truly irate. You feel yourself being dragged backward, toward the edge. Your stomach rolls in warning.

"Take it easy," Batman says, palms up. "We can work this out."

"You can't play fair?" Mike shouts. "Then neither will I!"

The wood beneath your feet is gone. You're falling.

"No!"

But no sooner than you fall are you caught. Warm arms encircle your waist, and you're jerked to a stop before you can fall more than a few feet.

"I got you, baby, I got you."

Jason is connected to a grapple. At the roof edge is Batman, Nightwing, and Spoiler, all holding the grapple.

You shake your head, screaming against your gag. Bomb. Bomb!

"'S alright, 's alright, sweetheart, I won't drop you."

You scream urgently through your gag, butting your head against his helmet. Jason pulls your gag half free and you choke out the warning.

"B-bomb!"

His grip tightens. "Shit. B, get out of here! Place is rigged to blow!"

The first explosion goes off. Jason meets your gaze. He's terrified, you can tell, but he tries to mask it.

"Let go," he says.

"Wh—"

"He'll catch you," Jason promises. "I trust him."

And then he lets go.

Several more explosions go off. The building begins to crumble. Dust and heat sweep across your face and lodge in your already sore throat. You scream, in the air for a few more seconds.

Then you crash into gray body armor. A cowl, a cape.

"It's alright," Batman gruffly says. "Hold on tight."

Batman swings you both to safety on an adjacent rooftop. You watch him dive back into the flames. It isn't long before Jason swings out of the smoke, then the others. He pulls off his helmet and tosses it to the side, arms open.

You run and bury your face in Jason's neck, clinging to him. He hugs your tightly and rubs your back, saying over and over, I got you.

You sigh and slacken out of exhaustion.

"I've got you, baby," he says, though his voice is wet this time. "You're safe."

Jason checks over your wounds. You see the rage cross his face several times at every bruise and cut on you. He doesn't let go of you even after he's done. He's shaking too, perhaps more than you, as he cuts your binds and completely removes your gag.

The Bats land gracefully behind you. Jason stiffens as they do.

You kiss his jaw. His gaze returns to you.

"You saved me," you say.

"I always will," he says. "Always."

"Are either of you injured?"

Batman suddenly swishes to your side. You blink, startled.

"Nothing serious," you say. Jason grunts unhappily at that. You manage a smile. "Thank you. All of you. Thank you so much."

Jason nods stiffly. "Thanks, Bats."

Nightwing smiles, face soft with affection. "'Course, Hood. And, uh, Hood's fiancé. We're there any time you need us."

"That's right, chum," Batman says. The obvious care in his voice makes you ache.

Jason had called his family. His family with whom he has a plethora of problems. He'd called them for you.

"Jay," you say, voice thick with emotion. He seems to understand instantly.

"I'll always bring you home," he vows, cupping your face. "Whatever it takes."

He pulls you to him like he can't bear to be away from you any longer.

You squeeze his wrists. "I know. It's okay, Jay. I'm okay."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see that the Bats still have not dispersed. Spoiler looks like she's about to melt into a puddle. Nightwing is the same. Even Batman looks a little sentimental.

Robin is the only one scowling, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Hood, are you not going to introduce your fiance-we-just-learned-existed-tonight?" Robin asks, arms folded.

Jason huffs. "Not with those manners, demon brat."

You roll your eyes and extend your hand to Batman. You say your name, smiling.

"It's an honor to meet you, sir," you say.

Batman laughs, and it sounds a little fond. It's also kind of weird to hear Batman laugh. "No sir necessary. It's equally an honor to meet the person my son is marrying."

Jason makes a choked little noise. You beam.

"Well," Batman murmurs. "We'll let you two get home. We'll track down the rest of Michael's thugs—"

"Come to the wedding," Jason blurts.

Batman stills. "Me?" he asks carefully.

"Everybody," Jason says, tugging you into his side. "Uncle Clark, Aunt Diana, Selina, your ten thousand kids, everyone."

He turns to you. "I-I mean, as long as that's okay with you, baby."

"Oh, Jay. It's your family. Of course I want them to come." You lean in to whisper in his ear. "I'm proud of you."

"Little Wing, c'mere!"

Nightwing tackles Jason in a hug, then drags Robin, who protests loudly, in by his cape. Spoiler snaps a picture from the sideline.

"Now that's adorable," she says.

Batman looks at you. He removes his cowl, and you gasp quietly. He smiles, and it makes him look decades younger. You guess he hasn't smiled much since he lost Jason.

"Thank you," he says.

You tilt your head. "For what?"

"For bringing him back to us."

You duck your head. "Oh, Mr. Wayne, that wasn't me—"

"Bruce," he corrects gently. "And it was. You played a bigger part than you know. You saved him. Thank you."

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

9: NEW DAWN

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter

You and Bucky deal with the fallout of the undercover mission.

Word count 3.3k

Warnings: reader coming to terms with Bucky's decision, trying to move forwards, betrayal, more miscommunication, anger, Bucky Barnes acting like a giant tool, Daisy Johnson and Melinda May make an appearance

The next morning you woke early, determined to carry out your plan. Slipping out of the compound, you drove out of the parking garage in one of the convertibles with the top down and wind blowing through your hair. It was freezing cold and you knew it was reckless because it looked like the heavens would open at any minute, but you didn’t care. You arrived at Coulson Academy just as several large raindrops started to fall, and you sniffed slightly from the cold air. Putting the top up, you got out of the car and ran for shelter under the large awning of the Academy entrance.

"Ugh!" You stopped to flick off the water from your jacket.

"Subtle entrance." Melinda May’s voice startled you.

You jumped out of your skin. "Jeez, May! Why do you always have to lurk around?"

"Wasn’t lurking. Just waiting for you."

"How did you know I was coming?"

"I heard about what happened."

"Steve?" you asked.

"Romanoff."

Of course it had been Nat. She knew everything that happened, she knew exactly what you would do. Maybe you ought to have talked to her before leaving.

"Why didn’t you stop me?" you asked.

"Because I knew you needed to make this decision on your own," May replied calmly. "And I knew you would come here eventually."

You sighed, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. "I don’t know if I’m making the right choice."

May placed a hand on your shoulder. "There is no right choice here. You need to take care of yourself for once, instead of putting everyone else’s needs before yours. Teaching at the Academy is something you would be good at. You have so much to offer, and… I believe in you."

You looked up at her, grateful for her support. She wasn’t one for heart to heart conversations, preferring to ignore her emotions altogether. "Thank you, May. I just wish it didn’t have to end this way with Bucky."

May gave you a knowing look, she knew exactly how you felt without you having to explain it to her. "Sometimes things don’t work out the way we want them to. But that doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. You have a bright future ahead of you, and I'll be there to help you every step of the way."

"Can I stay with you for a while?"

May rolled her eyes, "fine."

You wrapped your arms around her in a quick hug. "You’re the best. I love you."

*

Natasha was waiting for you when you returned, lounging across the hood of one of the Porches, filing her nails.

"Tony won’t be best pleased if he sees you like that."

"I’m not too worried about Tony. I have more important things on my mind."

"Yeah?" you asked, knowing full well where the conversation was going.

"What happened last night?"

"Didn’t Steve tell you?"

"Rogers?" she scoffed. "He has no idea what he’s talking about half the time."

You looked around for signs of anyone nearby. The risk of having someone overhear your conversation was making you feel very uncomfortable. Natasha pulled you into a secluded corner with a view of the rest of the garage and gave you a very pointed look requesting that you spilled the beans. But somehow the words you wanted to choose made the problem seem trivial. So instead of telling her about all the events that had transpired, you kept it simple.

"He chose her. Apparently there isn't enough room in his life for both of us," you shrugged.

"Steve told me what she did." Your gaze snapped to Nat’s face, but her returning expression was angry. "I don’t understand why you didn’t tell him."

"It’s my word against hers, Nat. I have no proof that she took my idea. What am I supposed to say? His reaction last night proves that he doesn’t trust me." You sighed dismally.

"Do you need me to beat some sense into him?"

You smiled sadly at your friend.

"Sweetie, you need to tell him how you feel," she continued.

"I think it’s too late for that. I’ve made my decision."

"I can’t do anything to change your mind?"

"Please Nat," you pleaded. "This is hard enough."

She put her arms around your neck, leaning her forehead against yours. "But I’ll miss you."

"I’ll miss you too." You wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling her into a tight hug, trying not to let the tears start falling again. Eventually you pulled away, steeling yourself for the next step; telling Steve and Tony about your resignation.

*

As you made your way back into the compound, you caught sight of your best friend in the gym. He was pummeling a punching bag like he wanted to murder it.

You gathered every ounce of courage within you and approached Bucky, desperate to reconcile and recapture the bond you once shared. But as you reached out to touch his arm, he recoiled, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and hurt.

"Bucky, please. I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way-"

"I thought I knew you, but I feel like I don’t know you anymore," he said, his voice laced with sorrow. "I know how you feel about Priya-"

"Buck-"

"I can see it in your face. But I never thought you could be so spiteful."

Your heart, already shattered, fractured further still, and the tears you had held back cascaded down your cheeks. Your friendship, once unbreakable, seemed irretrievable. Bucky turned his back on you, leaving you broken, lost in a sea of regret and longing.

*

After drying your tears, you found Tony and Steve in the common area, deep in conversation. Taking a breath, you approached them, your voice steady but filled with emotion. "Tony, Steve, I need to talk to you both."

Tony looked up, concern etched on his face. "What's wrong, Cricket?"

You hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I... I need to resign from the Avengers."

Tony's eyes widened in surprise. "What? Why?"

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before explaining. "I could make up some logistical excuse but you'll both know it's a lie. It's... it's because of Bucky. I can't continue to work alongside him knowing how I feel and knowing that he's with someone else. It's too painful for me."

Tony and Steve exchanged a knowing look before Steve spoke up. "We understand Cricket. We've seen how hard this has been for you. But are you sure this is what you want?"

You nodded, tears threatening to spill over. "I can't stay here and pretend everything is okay when it's not. I need to take a step back and figure things out."

Steve placed a comforting hand on your shoulder but he looked like he was at a loss for words. So he took the professional route of comfort. "You're a valuable member of the team."

"Stay, we can find you another partner." Tony stood up, coming over to you. "I can’t just let you go without a fight."

You smiled weakly, grateful for their understanding. "Thank you, Steve. And thank you, Tony. But I just need some time to myself."

As you turned to leave, Tony called out to you. "Hey Sport, if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to reach out. We're here for you."

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. It was time to focus on yourself and your own happiness, even if it meant leaving behind the life you had known as an Avenger. And maybe, just maybe, you would find a way to move on from Bucky and find your own path to happiness.

You'd barely taken three steps out of the common room before Steve caught up with you. "Have you spoken to him?"

"If you call ‘him telling me he doesn't even know who I am and then storming off’ speaking, then yes. I don't understand how this happened, Steve. I thought nothing could get between us."

"He loves you." Steve stopped in front of you. 

"Not anymore. He hates me."

Steve couldn't help but feel frustrated by how his two best friends could be so oblivious. 

"Look Steve, I'm sorry, I know Bucky’s your best friend. You don't need to hear me bad mouthing him." You stepped around him, making your way back to your room.

"Cricket, you're my friend too." Steve chased after you.

"Then will you help me pack?"

Steve sighed, he would never refuse anyone’s request for help. "Of course."

*

It hadn’t taken you long to pack your things into boxes. Your clothes weren’t difficult to shove into suitcases. Your wardrobe wasn’t extensive, having learned to live out of small spaces for many years, material things weren’t quite on your list of necessities. You had let Tony decorate your walls to his taste and you’d been pleasantly surprised at how good he was at guessing your tastes. However, you’d decided not to take these things with you when you left. It was time for you to make your own home. It was going to be a new challenge, you’d been involved with large institutions ever since you’d left home, and had never had to create a home for yourself before.

You turned to face Steve, Sam, and Nat, who were all standing in your room, looking at you with concern in their eyes.

"Come on, sugar cakes. Isn’t there any way we can convince you to stay?" Sam asked.

"I appreciate the sentiment, guys, but I need to do this," you said, zipping up your suitcase.

"Cricket, you’re too valuable a member of the team," Steve said, stepping forward.

"You know that’s just not true, but thank you for saying that. But I just can’t stay here knowing that Bucky’s mad at me," you replied, feeling a sting in your chest at the thought of leaving your best friend behind.

"Bucky will come around, he always does," Sam chimed in, trying to reassure you.

"I don’t think so, not this time. He’s really upset with me," you said, feeling tears welling up in your eyes.

Nat walked over to you and put a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Cricket, you can’t just leave because of this. You’re stronger than that."

You shook your head, wiping away a tear. "I can’t stay here, Nat. It’s too painful."

"We understand, but we don’t want you to go," Steve said, his voice filled with emotion.

"I know, but I have to do this. Please, don’t tell Bucky I’m leaving. I need to do this on my own terms," you pleaded, wondering if Bucky would even notice your absence.

The three of them exchanged a look before nodding in agreement. "Okay, we won’t tell him. But promise us you’ll keep in touch," Sam said.

You nodded, feeling grateful for their understanding. "I promise. Thank you, guys. I’ll miss you all."

You were the last to leave your room, the others had carried your things to the van you were borrowing from the garage. You sighed, you would miss the luxury and convenience that came with being a member of the Avengers Initiative. There were only a few things left in your room; the wolf plushie Steve had won you at Coney Island, you later realized that it reminded you of Bucky, and the still wrapped gift you had bought for Bucky, the card you’d written him still stuck to the top. There was no reason to take those things with you, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to throw them away. You decided to leave them on your bed. The next owner of the room could decide what to do with them.

On your way out, you ambled past the hangar bay, spotting Bucky in full tactical gear prepping for a mission. You had no idea that he had been assigned to something. 

"You have a mission?" you blurted out, causing Bucky to turn to you.

"Yes." His voice was monosyllabic.

"Alone?"

"No."

"No, with me." Sharon materialized suddenly.

"Oh, hey Sharon. I hope you guys are safe out there."

Bucky looked back at you, a fleeting look of regret crossed his face, before he turned and walked away. He didn’t waste any time requesting a new partner, you thought. Just when you thought he couldn’t hurt you anymore. At least he would be safe with her; Sharon was a good agent, she would watch his back, that’s what mattered the most.

As you walked out of the compound, you felt a mix of sadness and relief. It was time to start a new chapter in your life, even if it meant leaving behind the Avengers and the man you loved. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, but you were determined to make it work. And maybe, just maybe, one day Bucky would understand why you had to go.

*

Your friend, Daisy Johnson stopped by for a visit just after you had moved into your new apartment. You hadn’t seen her for a few years, since she had decided to travel the stars with her sister, Kora and now boyfriend, Daniel Sousa. She had insisted on coming over to your place, since May had insisted that you find your independence.

"So tell me, what’s the deal with your love life?" Daisy enquired after her third glass of wine.

"What love life?" you asked, sarcastically.

She laughed, "oh come on! You’ve been living in a building with all those Avengers! You can’t tell me that it’s all completely innocent!"

"Hey, just because you fell in love with your first S.O.!"

"Ouch! That’s a low blow! It’s not my fault Ward turned out to be a HYDRA psychopath!"

"No, he was out of this world."

"Literally!"

Both of you laughed, despite the pain that was associated with the memories of the parasitic inhuman who had infested and possessed the corpse of your dead traitorous colleague and used his body to control other inhumans. Sometimes there was nothing else to do but laugh.

"So, are you telling me that you haven’t gotten any sex since you moved in there?"

You shrugged.

"Not even Bucky Barnes? Like have you seen him?" Daisy had always expressed her attraction to your favorite super soldier, but she stopped as she noticed the change in your expression. "What is it? Did something happen with him?"

"No," you shook your head.

"Then why did you leave?"

You shrugged.

"Come on, spill. May wouldn’t tell me. But it’s got something to do with him, right?" Daisy scrutinized your face, coming to sit beside you. "Did he hurt yo-?"

"NO!" you responded before she had the chance to finish. "Not like that."

"But he did something."

"Bucky’s my best friend." You said, not being able to muster enough enthusiasm into your words for them to be believable.

"But?"

"We just clicked, you know? Right from the start. It was like we were made to be partners. We could share everything with each other, we knew what the other person was going to do in the field without even discussing it. But outside of that too, I felt like I could share anything with him. I even told him about…"

You didn’t have to explain yourself further, Daisy Johnson was the only other living person in the world who knew about the sexual abuse you had suffered as a teen. You had never told a soul when you had been an adolescent, fearing that you wouldn’t be believed, which had led to a lifetime of shame and a stigma of being seen as broken. But secrets often come out, whether you want them to or not. And during a mission, the man who had been responsible for your trauma was involved. Eventually your secrets had surfaced, no matter how deep you buried them, but Daisy had been there for you.

"But I thought there might be something more between us, something… as hard as I tried… I couldn't deny - I was… am in love with him."

"You are?"

"I never told him how I felt. I was afraid of ruining our friendship. But it feels like fate had other plans and he started dating Priya. I was happy for him, of course, but deep down, I couldn't help but feel … jealous.

"And as his relationship with Priya went on, I just found myself feeling more and more envious. I couldn't stand the thought of someone else being with him, especially when I knew how I felt. But I kept my feelings to myself, not wanting to cause any trouble." You sighed.

"What changed? What made you leave?"

"Bucky's birthday. I spent weeks planning the perfect gift for him, something that would show him how much he meant to me. But before I could give it to him, Priya just swooped in and stole my idea, presenting it to Bucky as if she had come up with it on her own.

"Bucky was thrilled with the gift, but when he turned to me expecting something from me, I- I didn’t know what to do. I couldn't bring myself to tell him that Priya had taken my idea, so I stayed silent. Daisy, he was so angry and hurt, thinking that I didn't care enough about him to get him a gift.

"In the end, he chose Priya over me, believing that she cared for him more. He said he loved her based on something I came up with! And I tried to apologize and explain, but he didn't … doesn’t want to hear it. He said felt like he never knew me, like our friendship had been a lie. Now he doesn’t even want me in his life!"

Daisy put her arms around your neck, pulling your head onto her shoulder. The wine had loosened your tongue and talking through what had happened was helping you to truly understand what had happened.

"I can’t believe this bitch!" Daisy muttered in your ear. "Want me to quake her for you?"

You let out a watery chuckle. "I just feel so alone. I know that it’s my own doing, I could have told him how I felt. I could hardly blame her at first, she had no idea. But now…I fucking hate Priya for coming between us, for stealing my chance at happiness with Bucky." You scoffed at your own words. "You know, deep down, I knew that it was my own fear and jealousy that had drove us apart in the first place. I let my feelings get in the way of our friendship, and now I’ve lost the one person who means the world to me." Talking to Daisy had given you time to take stock and really process what you had lost.

"So what’re you going to do now?" Daisy asked.

"What am I supposed to do, Daisy?"

"Let him cool off and try again!"

"And say what exactly? Take me back as your friend? I’m in love with you? He clearly doesn’t feel the same way, so what am I achieving other than getting hurt watching him being happy with someone else?"

"You could come with me, Kora and Daniel. We’re heading back off-world next week."

"And watch you and Daniel making those lovey-dovey faces at each other all day? Thanks, but I think I’ll pass."

"So you’re just going to teach? With May?"

"Yeah," you shrugged. "Teach and wallow about my sad, loveless life."

"You know I love you, right?" Daisy pouted at you.

You laughed, "yeah, I love you too."

Once Daisy left, you continued to think about Bucky. You missed the easy camaraderie you once shared with him, the way you could finish each other’s sentences and laugh until your sides hurt. But now, there was a distance between you that seemed insurmountable. Bucky had made his choice and you were left to pick up the shattered pieces of your friendship. You wondered if he ever truly understood how much you cared for him, how much he meant to you.

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[hollowed-theory-hall]

Harry was never really Dumbledore's man

So, in HBP Harry says himself:

“Well, it is clear to me that he has done a very good job on you,” said Scrimgeour, his eyes cold and hard behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “Dumbledore’s man through and through, aren’t you, Potter?” “Yeah, I am,” said Harry.

(HBP, 348)

But, I'm here to argue Harry actually has many many doubts and reservations about Dumbledore throughout all books (even HBP), and I find it interesting how Harry convinced the Wizarding world (and the readers) that he's Dumbledore's man when he isn't. Not really.

(Just makes me all the more annoyed at him calling his son Albus...)

I'm going to go through some examples of Harry showing his doubts about Dumbledore way before book 7. Because Harry is an abused, distrusting boy, and Dumbledore isn't actually an exception to that until very late into the books. And even when Harry chooses to trust Dumbledore's intentions, he never fully trusts his judgment.

“D’you think he meant you to do it?” said Ron. “Sending you your father’s cloak and everything?” “Well, ” Hermione exploded, “if he did — I mean to say that’s terrible — you could have been killed.” “No, it isn’t,” said Harry thoughtfully. “He’s a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don’t think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It’s almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could….”

(PS, 217)

This quote above is from the ending of Philosopher's Stone and the outlook Harry, Ron, and Hermione have on Dumbledore and his behavior is the same as seen in the later books. So I wanted to talk about each of them and how they see Dumbledore because this quote really sets the tone for the rest of the series.

Ron is doubtful and distrustful. The situation is odd, and he's clever, he analyzed the situation and came to a frightening conclusion — the whole ordeal seemed planned by Dumbledore. And Ron isn't scared of voicing this question.

Hermione, while not always a rule-follower, respects Dumbledore and his authority. A lot. So, she doesn't believe Dumbledore could've planned it as it would reflect badly on his character and authority. Hermione is a very loyal person, and once she decides she respects someone she is willfully blind to their flaws (we see it with her later in the series).

Harry, while he's clever enough to notice the same things Ron did and come to the same conclusion — that Dumbledore planned for an 11-year-old to face Voldemort — he attributes good intentions to Dumbledore. Harry sees the situation and draws his conclusions, but chooses to hope/believe Dumbledore's intentions were good ones.

Harry’s brain seemed to have jammed. He stared numbly at Riddle, at the orphaned boy who had grown up to murder Harry’s own parents, and so many others. . . . At last he forced himself to speak. “You’re not,” he said, his quiet voice full of hatred. “Not what?” snapped Riddle. “Not the greatest sorcerer in the world,” said Harry, breathing fast. “Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn’t dare try and take over at Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school and he still frightens you now, wherever you’re hiding these days —” The smile had gone from Riddle’s face, to be replaced by a very ugly look. “Dumbledore’s been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!” he hissed. “He’s not as gone as you might think!” Harry retorted. He was speaking at random, wanting to scare Riddle, wishing rather than believing it to be true —

(CoS, 282)

This is one of the scenes people call to to show how much faith Harry has in Dumbledore (even Dumbledore himself), the thing is, Harry says (in his mind) he's just saying things to try and scare Tom. To try and buy time, or unbalance Tom so he may have a chance at escape.

The important note is that Harry doesn't actually believe what he's saying to Tom. He's just saying what he thinks would bother Tom the most.

Harry had never shared this piece of information with anybody. He was very fond of his wand, and as far as he was concerned its relation to Voldemort’s wand was something it couldn’t help — rather as he couldn’t help being related to Aunt Petunia. However, he really hoped that Mr. Ollivander wasn’t about to tell the room about it. He had a funny feeling Rita Skeeter’s Quick-Quotes Quill might just explode with excitement if he did.

(GoF, 310)

This part about telling no one about his wand's connection to Voldemort is true. He never told anyone by that point in GoF. Not Ron, not Hermione, not Dumbledore, not even Sirius.

As I mentioned above, Harry is abused and distrustful. He's not at all Dumbledore's perfect soldier who trusts him with everything. In GoF, Harry decides against telling Dumbledore about his dreams and the pain in his scar:

“Your scar hurt? Harry, that’s really serious. . . . Write to Professor Dumbledore! And I’ll go and check Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. . . . Maybe there’s something in there about curse scars. . . .” Yes, that would be Hermione’s advice: Go straight to the headmaster of Hogwarts, and in the meantime, consult a book. [...] As for informing the headmaster, Harry had no idea where Dumbledore went during the summer holidays. He amused himself for a moment, picturing Dumbledore, with his long silver beard, fulllength wizard’s robes, and pointed hat, stretched out on a beach somewhere, rubbing suntan lotion onto his long crooked nose. Wherever Dumbledore was, though, Harry was sure that Hedwig would be able to find him; Harry’s owl had never yet failed to deliver a letter to anyone, even without an address. But what would he write? Dear Professor Dumbledore, Sorry to bother you, but my scar hurt this morning. Yours sincerely, Harry Potter. Even inside his head the words sounded stupid.

(GoF, 21)

Harry doesn't wish to share secrets with Dumbledore, nor does he feel comfortable to go to him with his troubles (his go-to adult while Sirius was around was always Sirius). Again, Hermione is mentioned as the one who trusts Dumbledore's authority, in Harry's head, but he's right, he knows her well.

Harry actually spends a good portion of the series purposefully trying to hide information from Dumbledore. (I'm saying 'trying ' because Dumbledore always found out, but not because Harry told him).

“He seemed to think it was best,” said Hermione rather breathlessly. “Dumbledore, I mean.” “Right,” said Harry. He noticed that her hands too bore the marks of Hedwig’s beak and found that he was not at all sorry. “I think he thought you were safest with the Muggles —” Ron began. “Yeah?” said Harry, raising his eyebrows. “Have either of you been attacked by dementors this summer?” “Well, no — but that’s why he’s had people from the Order of the Phoenix tailing you all the time -” Harry felt a great jolt in his guts as though he had just missed a step going downstairs. So everyone had known he was being followed except him. “Didn’t work that well, though, did it?” said Harry, doing his utmost to keep his voice even. “Had to look after myself after all, didn’t I?” “He was so angry,” said Hermione in an almost awestruck voice. “Dumbledore. We saw him. When he found out Mundungus had left before his shift had ended. He was scary.” “Well, I’m glad he left,” Harry said coldly. “If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have done magic and Dumbledore would probably have left me at Privet Drive all summer.”

(OotP, 63)

Harry is angry here, true, but he doubts Dumbledore's idea of what's "safe" for him. He's actually glad for the dementors because he doubts Dumbledore would've brought him over if it wasn't an emergency.

And Harry is right to be doubtful and suspicious. He's right that he's less safe at the Dursleys than at Grimmauld Place. He's right to feel angry and betrayed at literally everyone knowing he's being followed except for him. He's right Dumbledore probably wouldn't have brought him if it wasn't for the dementor attack. Harry is correct in each and every one of his assessments of Dumbledore's character and decisions here.

“No,” said Harry, shaking his head. “It’s more like . . . his mood, I suppose. I’m just getting flashes of what mood he’s in. . . . Dumbledore said something like this was happening last year. . . . He said that when Voldemort was near me, or when he was feeling hatred, I could tell. Well, now I’m feeling it when he’s pleased too. . . .” There was a pause. The wind and rain lashed at the building. “You’ve got to tell someone,” said Ron. “I told Sirius last time.” “Well, tell him about this time!” “Can’t, can I?” said Harry grimly. “Umbridge is watching the owls and the fires, remember?” “Well then, Dumbledore —” “I’ve just told you, he already knows,” said Harry shortly, getting to his feet, taking his cloak off his peg, and swinging it around himself. “There’s no point telling him again.” Ron did up the fastening of his own cloak, watching Harry thoughtfully. “Dumbledore’d want to know,” he said. Harry shrugged. “C’mon . . . we’ve still got Silencing Charms to practice . . .”

(OotP, 382)

Remember I mentioned Harry hiding things from Dumbledore? This is one of such occasions. There are more in GoF that I didn't copy, but this is an example of Voldemort-related, dangerous information Harry is hiding from Dumbledore because he doesn't trust him and doesn't feel comfortable telling him things.

“It’s lessons with Snape that are making it worse,” said Harry flatly. “I’m getting sick of my scar hurting, and I’m getting bored walking down that corridor every night.” He rubbed his forehead angrily. “I just wish the door would open, I’m sick of standing staring at it —” “That’s not funny,” said Hermione sharply. “Dumbledore doesn’t want you to have dreams about that corridor at all, or he wouldn’t have asked Snape to teach you Occlumency. You’re just going to have to work a bit harder in your lessons.” “I am working!” said Harry, nettled. “You try it sometime, Snape trying to get inside your head, it’s not a bundle of laughs, you know!” “Maybe . . .” said Ron slowly. “Maybe what?” said Hermione rather snappishly. “Maybe it’s not Harry’s fault he can’t close his mind,” said Ron darkly. “What do you mean?” said Hermione. “Well, maybe Snape isn’t really trying to help Harry. . . .” Harry and Hermione stared at him. Ron looked darkly and meaningfully from one to the other. “Maybe,” he said again in a lower voice, “he’s actually trying to open Harry’s mind a bit wider . . . make it easier for You-Know —” “Shut up, Ron,” said Hermione angrily. “How many times have you suspected Snape, and when have you ever been right? Dumbledore trusts him, he works for the Order, that ought to be enough.” “He used to be a Death Eater,” said Ron stubbornly. “And we’ve never seen proof that he really swapped sides. . . .” “Dumbledore trusts him,” Hermione repeated. “And if we can’t trust Dumbledore, we can’t trust anyone.”

(OotP, 554)

Again we see the same exact dynamic from first year. Hermione is loyal to Dumbledore, not even considering he might be wrong about something, or not have their best interests at heart. Ron and Harry on the other hand, are both open to the possibility that things aren't so simple. They don't think Dumbledore is intentionally harming Harry, but they think he's wrong about Snape. Something Hermione, Arthur and Molly would never consider.

(This is actually the most annoying thing in Hermione's character for me, her unshakable faith in Dumbledore, who doesn't deserve her trust)

“. . . so you see what this means?” Harry finished at a gallop. “Dumbledore won’t be here tonight, so Malfoy’s going to have another clear shot at whatever he’s up to. No, listen to me!” he hissed angrily, as both Ron and Hermione showed every sign of interrupting. “I know it was Malfoy celebrating in the Room of Requirement. Here —” He shoved the Marauder’s Map into Hermione’s hands. “You’ve got to watch him and you’ve got to watch Snape too. Use anyone else who you can rustle up from the D.A., Hermione, those contact Galleons will still work, right? Dumbledore says he’s put extra protection in the school, but if Snape’s involved, he’ll know what Dumbledore’s protection is, and how to avoid it — but he won’t be expecting you lot to be on the watch, will he?” “Harry —” began Hermione, her eyes huge with fear.

(HBP, 552)

Even in book 6, the book Harry grows the most comfortable and trusting towards Dumbledore, even then, he doesn't trust Dumbledore. He thinks (and somewhat rightly so because he doesn't know of Snape and Dumbledore's plan) that Dumbledore is wrong about Snape. that Dumbledore is wrong about Malfoy. Harry doesn't trust that whatever protections Dumbledore would leave would be enough (and they weren't).

Even at the end of HBP, the point in the series where Harry has the most faith in Dumbledore, Harry still doesn't trust Dumbledore's judgment or his ability to protect the school. Even after Dumbledore calls Harry out on it, telling him the safety of the students is important to him, Harry still tells Ron and Hermione to get the DA to protect the school without notifying Dumbledore.

And Dumbledore raised Harry to feel responsible for the school's safety, Harry is doing what he was "bred" to do. But he does it behind Dumbledore's back, because like every adult, Harry deep down expects to be let down. After all, he's used to saving the school himself.

So, no, Harry never really trusted Dumbledore fully. At least, not Dumbledore's judgment. Harry does believe Dumbledore's intentions are good for the most part, even if ineffective.

“He never told me his sister was a Squib,” said Harry, without thinking, still cold inside. “And why on earth would he tell you?” screeched Muriel, swaying a little in her seat as she attempted to focus upon Harry [...] Where was saintly Albus while Ariana was locked in the cellar? Off being brilliant at Hogwarts, and never mind what was going on in his own house!” “What d’you mean, locked in the cellar?” asked Harry. “What is this?” Doge looked wretched. Auntie Muriel cackled again and answered Harry. [...] Numbly Harry thought of how the Dursleys had once shut him up, locked him away, kept him out of sight, all for the crime of being a wizard. Had Dumbledore’s sister suffered the same fate in reverse: imprisoned for her lack of magic? Had Dumbledore truly left her to her fate while he went off to Hogwarts to prove himself brilliant and talented?

(DH, 135-137)

And in Deathley Hollows, Harry is very quick to start questioning and doubting Dumbledore. Especially when compared to Hermione:

“Harry—” But he shook his head. Some inner certainty had crashed down inside him; it was exactly as he had felt after Ron left. He had trusted Dumbledore, believed him the embodiment of goodness and wisdom. All was ashes: How much more could he lose? Ron, Dumbledore, the phoenix wand . . . “Harry.” She seemed to have heard his thoughts. “Listen to me. It—it doesn’t make very nice reading—” “Yeah, you could say that—” “—but don’t forget, Harry this is Rita Skeeter writing.” “You did read that letter to Grindelwald, didn’t you?” “Yes, I—I did.” She hesitated, looking upset, cradling her tea in her cold hands.

(DH, 311)

Harry is hurt, he feels betrayed, because while he never 100% trusted Dumbledore's judgment, he trusted his intentions. He trusted Dumbledore was good and cared for him. He feels cold and betrayed, showing trust in his intentions. But his readiness to accept Skeeter's and Muriel's accusations so quickly shows he always had his doubts about Dumbledore and they never really left, even if he wanted to trust him, he never did, not fully.

Hermione, on the other hand, who was always loyal and trusted Dumbledore (both his intentions and judgment) 100%, tries to rationalize Dumbledore's actions and convince herself everyone who says bad things about him is lying.

Harry doesn't. Because out of the Golden Trio, Hermione was always Dumbledore's woman, Ron and Harry... not really. Not as much.

“That old berk,” muttered Aberforth, taking another swig of mead. “Thought the sun shone out of my brother’s every office, he did. Well, so did plenty of people, you three included, by the looks of it.” Harry kept quiet. He did not want to express the doubts and uncertainties about Dumbledore that had riddled him for months now. He had made his choice while he dug Dobby’s grave, he had decided to continue along the winding, dangerous path indicated for him by Albus Dumbledore, to accept that he had not been told everything that he wanted to know, but simply to trust. He had no desire to doubt again; he did not want to hear anything that would deflect him from his purpose. He met Aberforth’s gaze, which was so strikingly like his brothers’: The bright blue eyes gave the same impression that they were X-raying the object of their scrutiny, and Harry thought that Aberforth knew what he was thinking and despised him for it. “Professor Dumbledore cared about Harry, very much,” said Hermione in a low voice. “Did he now?” said Aberforth. “Funny thing how many of the people my brother cared about very much ended up in a worse state than if he’d left ’em well alone.”

(DH, 478)

More of how Harry thinks about Dumbledore, showing, again, how he always had his doubts and reservations but he chooses to trust Dumbledore's intentions because otherwise, he doesn't think he has any hope to defeat Voldemort. He chooses to keep following Dumbledore's path because he has no real choice but to trust what he sees as the only path that'll lead to Voldemort's destruction. But Harry has plenty of doubts about Dumbledore.

Hermione, on the other hand, has little to no doubts. She doesn't allow herself to doubt.

And this pattern, of Harry doubting Dumbledore again and again, never truly trusting him, just trusting his plan will kill Voldemort... like, how does that lead Harry to want to name his kid 'Albus'? I just don't get it...

TL;DR

Harry likes to say he's Dumbledore's man, but he always had his reservations, even when he choose to ignore them since trusting Dumbledore's plan felt like his only chance at survival. Hermione is much more trusting of Dumbledore than Harry is.

[acowardinmordor]

You Left Me, You Miss Me - Five

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five

Continuing immediately from part Four. And I hear your screaming, and enjoy it, but I am pretty sure that I'm not going the direction you expect me to.

------

“Huh?”

“I asked them to,” Eddie repeated, quieter.

It didn’t make more sense the second time.  His kids were stubborn. They were obnoxious, and someone asking them to do, or not do something had never once changed anything. Steve spent the last few years asking them not to leave crumbs in his car, and to call before coming over, and to please, just once, let him choose the movie on a movie night. Plus the part where everyone asked them not to put themselves in danger when monsters crawled out of the ground. 

Threats didn’t work on them, law enforcement didn’t work on them, like hell was something as delicate as asking going to do a damn thing. 

“Yeah, no, I heard you, but I don’t get it. So you, what? You sat them down and asked them to ice me out? And they said ‘sure why not!’ Man, even if you asked them to, they’re still the ones that did it. Shit, you’ve never liked me. There’s no way that you didn’t tell the boys to stop hanging out with me last year during your game meetings before everything happened.” Eddie shrank further into the seat, so Steve added, “So, it’s not your fault, but I guess I forgive you if that makes you feel better.”

Eddie gnawed on the inside of his cheek, wincing at what felt like every other word.

“Shit, Steve, it’s -- Shit,” he cursed as he sloshed some of his coffee over the brim. His eyes were clenched shut, and he was curled in on himself. “I didn’t sit them down and tell them to stop talking to you. That -- no way that would work. You’re right. They wouldn’t just -- Like I said, they’re crazy about you. It’s more, it’s all of the, I told them about how ever since -- shit. Look, it doesn’t matter why or how I did it, just trust me, I’m the reason. It’s my fault, and I fucked up, and I didn’t mean it to make -- but you left, and it’s killing them, and so you gotta forgive them, at least talk to them, cause its not their fault.”

“Yeah,” Steve stalled, “still don’t get why you think this is on you, dude.”

“At the beginning it -- shit, no. Doesn’t matter. Jesus Christ, Munson, don’t make this about that. Okay. I asked them not to invite you if I was around, cause I wasn’t -- I didn’t want to see you, and then I made sure they were always around me because -- because I wanted them to. And then I, you know, kept poking at them about it when they’d bring it up, reminding them that you don’t like D&D and that you wouldn’t want to watch the new Star Trek movie, and when they said anything I just kept telling them that -- Shit, just believe me. I’m the one that made them do this, it’s my fault, it’s not them.”

Okay, so Eddie was pushier since Spring Break than he was before it. Or the kids listened to him more. Or they were trying to take care of him. So Eddie was the prompt for them cutting him out of everything. Fine.

Still didn’t make it the guy’s fault. 

Steve got close with Robin after she found out about the Upside Down. But he didn’t get close to Jonathan. Dustin became, for a while at least, his brother. Steve would die for Mike, but they didn’t hang out if it wasn’t a group thing. All of them were tied together, and any one of them could make a call, and everyone would come to help, but that didn’t make them all automatically into friends. 

God, Eddie looked like he was on the edge of a breakdown in a booth in a diner. 

“Look, it’s,” Steve spun his coffee cup, “you’re real close with the guys in your club right? The ones in your band?”

Eddie went tense, then nodded awkwardly.

“You’re close because of that stuff, though. Not just cause you had some classes together or were next to each other on a bus. You got pushed together for some random reason, but  that happened with a lot of people. But you had shared interests, right? You like that game, and you got bullied at school and you like the same loud screaming music. So you got to know each other, and you had a bunch in common, and so you guys are friends. You’re close, so even though you graduated, and you don’t have class and lunch together anymore, you’re still friends.

“Christ, Steve, no,” he protested. 

Steve ignored that and kept going.

“I never had that with the kids, or any of them. Shit. Never had that with Nance either, but I didn’t know it back then.” His inner Robin glared, and he stayed on topic. “It wasn’t as simple as sharing some classes, there were monsters and all that, but that’s what kept me and them around each other. No more monsters now, so.”

His stomach twisted, like it always did if he got too close to thinking about this. 

He only barely managed to talk about this with Robin, because when it was Robin he was honest, and when he was honest, really honest, he ended the night quiet and hurting and picking apart the past year trying to find what he could have done differently. Shoving all of that back into the dark of his mind, he conjured up a casual shrug and a smile. 

“I get that they’re probably freaking out right now, but they’ll get over it. Give it another month or two and it’ll be fine. Start one of your campaign -- your big story things and distract them if they’re bugging you about it.” 

He wiped up the coffee Eddie spilled on instinct, and shoved the napkin in his now empty cup. 

Time to get home and get a nap before he went to the stockroom that night. He wouldn’t see Robin until he picked her up for work, but they were scheduled alone, so he could talk all of this through then. Trying to pretend this day didn’t happen would last all of eight seconds of contact with his best friend. Maybe she could make sense of how he was feeling. 

“Wait, stop, you can’t leave yet.”

“Munson, I’ve been here since before dawn, I wanna leave.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but you have to talk to them. They miss you.”

“They didn’t six weeks ago, did they? Or for the holidays? Or for the months before that, huh?” Steve finally snapped, then took a breath. “Sorry. Answer’s still no.”

He bussed their cups and the creamer to the pass through and grabbed his coat and gloves. Steam rose off Hopper’s truck where he had the engine running to keep warm. They exchanged a single nod before Steve turned towards the road to walk home. 

“Steve!” 

It wasn’t a shock to hear, but Steve had hoped that Eddie wouldn’t follow. 

“Okay, I get that you’re not going to just forgive them, and that you don’t want to talk to them, but--”

“No. I don’t. And I know you think this is your fault, and I’m telling you it’s not, and I told you, I’m not mad at you about this. We weren’t friends. I’m not mad at you for not wanting me around or whatever. That’s fine. And? They’ll get over it, and everyone can just move on with their lives with the people they actually like.”

Steve’s stupid voice betrayed him, cracking, and he cut off the rest of what he might have said. Anger was the fastest way to shut down weakness, and it was easy for him to sink into it.  

Eddie had his hands in his hair, clutching at it near his temples, looking borderline hysterical. 

“Would you at least listen if they talked?”

“They don’t have my phone number, and if you tell them where I live, I’ll send Mrs Buckley after you. And Hopper.”

“You could call them.”

“No.”

It wasn’t about who placed the call. If he heard them, if they said a fraction of what he wanted to hear, he’d cave, immediately and entirely, and then both the real life Robin, and the mini Robin in his brain would give him hell. 

“Steve come on, something, anything. Letters? If they write letters?”

“I’m not giving them my address, and Hopper already asked about mailing stuff through him instead. No.”

It was cold and he was tired. Just about the only person in the party that he didn’t care had abandoned him was trying to pull Steve back into the vat of slow simmering pain he was still climbing out of. 

“Look, Eddie --”

“I’ll drive them. The letters. You don’t even have to answer, or read them. Let me tell them that I can bring you letters, and I’ll drive them up here. If you do want to answer I’ll wait and then drive whatever it is back. As many times as you want.”

“Come on, man.”

“I won’t even -- I don’t have to know where you live, or your number, anything. I can come here. To the diner. Won’t even come inside, just drop them off and wait. You won’t have to talk to me, or see me. Just, come on. Even if you never forgive them, or answer them, let them have this. Even if you don’t read what they say, let them think they got to apologize.”

The wind shifted, and Steve tucked his chin into his coat to wait it out. 

Eddie was shivering two steps away, gloveless hands shoved under his arms, hair tangling into more of a mess than usual. 

“That’s a stupid idea, Munson,” he said when the gust stopped, “If they know that you know where I am, and you don’t tell them, they’re going to hate you. They’d drive you insane trying to get you to tell them, and they’d be horrible the whole time. They already ditched me for you, so, don’t make them hate you too.”

“They already hate me.” The response was immediate and defeated.

“Dude, they don’t.”

“They do. They figured it out a few weeks ago. That I was the reason. Just cause you don’t get it doesn’t mean they don’t. This is my fault. They already hate me. They won’t even talk to me long enough to yell. They act like I don’t exist.”

“Christ, Munson, is that why you’re up here, freezing your ass off in a parking lot and bitching at me? So you can get them to like you by getting me to talk to them?”

Eddie flinched. Didn’t say anything for a minute as he shivered with wide eyes. Then, without any of the dramatics the guy was known for, “Please, Steve. Even if you throw them out right after. Let them write to you, and let me tell them the truth when I say you got them. I think they can survive if they don’t hear back. They’ll blame me, but that’s fine, they should. The silence is what’s killing them. They need to say how -- they need to believe that you heard how sorry they are.”

It was so fucking cold it was making Steve’s eyes water. That was the only reason for it. The cold front that came in overnight.

“I’m not gonna promise to read them,” he caved.

The tension collapsed out of Eddie, and he slumped forward, hiding his face in his hands. 

“I work here in the mornings Monday through Wednesday every week. You should drop them off then. M’not saying I’ll read them, or write anything back, but if they want to write, fine.” 

Eddie nodded over and over, hiding behind his hands, and whisper-mumbling something that Steve couldn’t catch. He was shaking again. The kind of full body wracking that meant the cold was sinking deep.

“Christ, go get in Hop’s truck before your fingers freeze off or something.” 

Without waiting for a response, or checking that he listened, Steve turned and kept walking. Another gust of wind tore through him, loud enough that he wouldn’t have heard another call of his name. It was a good thing that John messed up the big combo that morning, and Steve had eaten it during the lull after breakfast. He wasn’t going to manage anything else until tomorrow at the earliest. 

That was assuming Robin didn’t kill him on the spot for his stupid, stupid decision. 

Ten steps down the road, and he already regretted it. Even if he didn’t read anything, even if they never sent anything, the choice would sit like a rock in his gut; a new ache, a new bruise, and Steve was dumb enough that he’d keep poking at it. 

---

I'm sad that this is two chapters without Robin. That's some kind of a crime. Can guarantee that Robin has Strong Opinions about this when she talks to Steve that night.

I don't do tag lists or regular updates, and I have no shame about that.

>>>>>Part Six

[watarfallar]

Incorrect quotes because I'm rewatching Wild Life

Scar: Hey Grian, check out this funny .GIF I found! Grian: It’s pronounced “jif”. Scar: Huh? Grian: “Dot jif”, like the peanut butter. The creator said so. Scar: That’s dumb, it’s Graphics Interchange Format. Grian: The P in .JPEG stands for “photographic”, but I bet you don’t say “J-pheg”. Scar: “P” on its own isn’t pronounced like “F”, that’s totally different! Grian: It’s exactly the same! Scar: Name one word that starts with “G” pronounced like “J”. Grian: Gentrification. Scar: Shoot, should have thought of that. I was just in San Francisco. Grian: For your logic to be consistent, you’d have to say “skuh-bah” (scuba) or “lah-seer” (laser)! Scar: Yeah? Well, you’d have to say “J-pej”! Scar: …Wait, “laser” is an acronym? Grian: Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation. Scar: Huh. Didn’t know that. Scar: You’re still wrong, though. Grian: You just hate me because I’m right. Scar: I just hate you in general. Grian: You mean in “geh-neral”? Scar: Ugh, I’m “joing” to kill you!

Grian: Someone’s trying to break in. Call the cops! Scar: loads shotgun I got this. Grian: Last week you fell up the stairs, what do you mean-

Scar: Okay, Grian, you were right! I was… Less right!

Scar: Grian, wake up! Grian, half asleep: Five more minutes… Scar: You’ve been in a coma for two years! Grian: … Grian: Okay, two more minutes…

Grian: Shut it Scar, I only shook your hand because I had to. We will NEVER be friends. Scar: Lets survive this together! Grian: I HOPE YOU DIE.

Scar: What’s your biggest fear? Grian: I am incredibly arachnophobic. Scar, under their breath: You don’t want spiders to get married?

Grian: chokes on something Scar: Jeez, Grian, don't die on us. Grian: Don't tell me what to do, I'll die whenever the hell I want!

Grian and Scar are texting Grian: Who are you? Someone changed the names in my phone. Scar: What did they change my name to? Grian: Chosen One. Scar: Don’t change it back. Grian: BUT WHO ARE YOU?!?! Scar: I’m the chosen one.

Scar: Are you mad? Grian: No. Scar: So sharpening your knives at 3 in the morning is just a hobby?

Grian: Alright, listen up you little shits. Grian: Not you Scar. You’re an angel and we’re thrilled you’re here.

Scar: According to the footage here, you shook the vending machine and when the shake alarm went off, you punched the glass and broke it. Grian: …I was hungry.

Grian: Don’t you have any dignity, Scar? Scar: Uh, no.

Grian: Do you want this handful of moss? Scar: Why would I want a handful of fucking moss? Grian: Damn, you could’ve just said no.

Scar: Your problem is that you’ve got no common sense. Grian: I’ve got plenty of common sense! Grian: I just choose to ignore it.

Scar: I’m serious! They’re watching me! They’ve even got an agent following me! Don’t you believe me? Grian: Look, it’s not that I don’t believe you… It’s that I don’t believe you and I don’t care.

Scar: Grian keeps forgetting which WiFi network they're supposed to use. Scar: So I renamed ours to "Grian, use this one" to help them out a little.

Grian: Please, Scar, after everything we’ve been through together. You can’t do this. Grian: I’m sorry Scar. Grian: I’m begging you. Don’t do it. Scar: It has to be done. Grian: Scar: Grian: Scar: Places +4 Uno.

Scar: Does immaturely insulting me make you feel better about your sad single life? Grian: It actually does.

Grian: Amazing! Scar, your just like Sherlock Homeless! Scar: IT'S HOLMES!

Grian: I taught the dog a new trick. throws ball Fetch! Dog: just stands there Scar: He didn’t do it. Grian: I taught him to ignore social conventions and think for himself.

Grian: What the hell is wrong with you? Scar: I have this weird self-esteem issue where I hate myself but still think I’m better than everyone else.

Grian: Do you have a superpower? Scar: Yep! It’s hindsight. Grian: …that’s not going to help us. Scar: Yes, I see that now.

Grian: You’re giving me a sticker? Scar: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!” Grian: I’m not a preschooler. Scar: Fine, I’ll take it back- Grian: I earned this, back off!

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel Miller x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 2: See me

Chap 2. Summary: To be loved is to be seen. You're slowly learning that Joel sees you a lot more than you realize. Rating: 18+ MDNI (for future smut) Word Count: 6.7k Warnings: pre-outbreak AU, no smut (yet...pls be patient), tension, banter, a fuck ton of angst, mutual pining, language... I think that's it this go around? A/N: trust me, we're building up to the good stuff. I'm just enjoying developing Joel and the reader a bit more, so pls hang tight. It's all coming soon, I promise.

Masterlist

It had been two weeks since you had last seen Joel. You managed to get through the first round of tests and projects for each of your classes, but as the midterms slowly approached, you began to notice a shift in your students—specifically, Sarah. It wasn’t noticeable at first; she was still chatty with her friends, but her grades were slipping. Then, it became her grades and mood. During lessons, you’d catch her staring out the window blankly or doodling dismissively on the margins of her notebook when you were running through the guidelines for the midterms. She lingered longer after the school bell, choosing not to leave with her friends. After a particularly dull day of presentations, you decided to pull her aside after class. Sarah was reluctant to stay, but you reassured her she wasn’t in trouble. 

“I’ve noticed you’re a bit off lately, Sarah,” you said, leaning against the edge of your desk. 

“I’m just tired, that’s all,” she shrugged. 

She wouldn’t meet your eyes, and you noticed her shifting her weight between her legs the longer she stood in the empty room with you. You feared something was happening at home with Joel, but you didn’t want to explore that topic with your twelve-year-old student. Instead, you gave her a soft smile and tried a different approach. 

“I know you’re on the soccer team. Has that been tiring you out?” You asked.

“I mean, I guess so.”

“When’s your first game?” You were really trying now. 

Sarah tightened her fingers around the straps of her backpack, staring at the floor. 

“This Saturday,” she mumbled. 

“Are you excited? I’m sure your dad can’t wait to cheer you on!”

There it was—the breaking point. 

She looked up at you through blurry eyes, biting her lip to stop from crying. You immediately regretted bringing up Joel. You had overstepped a boundary, and you were paying the price. Dipping your head to meet her at eye level, you placed both hands on her shoulders, trying to comfort her the best you could. 

“Oh, honey,” you sighed. “I’m sorry. Is that what’s been upsetting you?”

She nodded, sniffling back the tears. 

“He’s always working,” she explained. “I don’t really think he’ll make time to come watch me play.”

“I bet he wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you assured her. 

“Yeah,” she said, wiping away a stray tear. 

You watched the defeat etch itself into her features, the deep frown across her face, the brightness in her eyes dwindling. You wanted to believe Joel was a good dad, and you had no doubt he was trying his hardest, but that clearly wasn’t enough. Tipping your fingers under her chin, you coaxed her eyes to meet yours. 

“Look, how about I go?” You offered. “I know I’m not the person you want to see on the sidelines, but I would love to watch you play.”

“Really?” She asked, her eyes growing wide. 

“Really,” you promised. 

Your words seemed to have soothed a bit of the ache inside of her, and she left the classroom with a smile growing on her face. If Joel wouldn’t show up for her, then you would. She deserved someone cheering her on; she deserved to be happy. 

Whoever decided to schedule soccer games at eight AM on a Saturday was cruel, but regardless, you threw on some leggings and a sweater and made your way to the school soccer fields. The parking lot was littered with minivans and families walking with lawn chairs tucked under their arms, their coolers filled with juice pouches and snacks dragging behind them. Obviously, you were uncultured in the sports world and came without a chair or blanket…or anything. So, you opted to stand behind the line of parents on the field, swaying under the morning breeze as you watched the kids chase the ball across the field. 

Your eyes never left Sarah while she was on the field; her bouncy curls and lean figure were easy to spot among the other players. She was quick when given the ball, dodging the opponents as she neared the net. There were only three minutes left in the first half of the game, and she had possession of the ball, weaving in and out of the players tracking her moves. You held your breath as she ran closer to the net, the ball easily controlled under her feet. An opponent was gaining on her, trying to kick the ball away, but Sarah did a little twirl and evaded them perfectly to shoot the game's first point. You were cheering and clapping loudly with the other parents on the sideline, watching her teammates swarm her with hugs. But as the cheering died out, you were left with this profound sadness that her dad wasn’t here to see her first goal. 

You let that bitterness grow inside you as you watched the remainder of the game.

When the final whistle blew, the team won 1-0, with Sarah being the game's star player. With a sheen of sweat over her forehead and a juice pouch in hand, Sarah skipped over to you with a bright smile. 

“Great job!” You cheered, welcoming her into a warm embrace.

She squeezed her arms around your torso, babbling off a slew of ‘thank you’s.’ You put aside your anger towards Joel as you grounded yourself in the moment. Sarah deserved this celebration, and you would happily give her every bit of attention you could. 

“Do you need a ride home, honey?” You asked, pulling away from the hug. 

Sarah’s cheery exterior faltered as she looked around at the families embracing their children. You knew where her mind was going. Looking around, she nodded slowly, clutching her drink tightly. 

“My friend’s parents took me here, but I think they’re going out to lunch. I was hoping my dad would be here, but…” She trailed off. 

“I’m happy to take you home, Sarah. Want some food for the drive home?” You offered. 

That bright smile was back as she happily agreed, following you back to your car. 

Both you and Sarah were munching on fries and singing along to pop tunes when you finally parked in front of her house. To your detriment, Joel’s truck was parked in the driveway. Sarah timidly looked between you and the truck as she gathered her sports bag and soda cup, thanking you again for the day spent together. You gave her the best fake smile you could conjure up and watched her head to the front door. 

You sat in front of the driveway for an extra few minutes, debating whether you should confront Joel, but before you could even decide, he was walking down the front porch and towards your car. That bitterness and anger you had suppressed all day surged forward, and you jumped out of the car to face him with a frown drawn on your face.

Joel greeted you with your name falling off his tongue, and you didn’t have time to register the beautiful way it sounded in his Southern accent before you began spewing a litany of remarks about how you felt. 

“Why weren’t you there?” You shouted, your body at arm's length from his. You needed to distance yourself from him, too afraid that your anger would send a hand flying across his face. You had to remind yourself that he was Sarah’s dad and you were her teacher, but that wouldn’t stop you from speaking your mind. 

Joel looked at you with a furrow of confusion and guilt, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. It was apparent he regretted missing the game, but that didn’t matter. Saying sorry wouldn’t turn back the clock and magically make everything better. You knew that firsthand.

“Tommy and I had an early meetin’ with a contractor,” he explained. “Trust me, I hate that I missed the game.”

“You didn’t just miss the game. You missed her first goal,” you snapped. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, rocking his heels. “I appreciate you takin’ the time to go and watch her play. And drivin’ her home… and gettin’ her lunch.”

“I did everything you should have done,” you accused. 

Joel swallowed thickly, his eyes settling on yours with a wave of sadness passing through his irises. Those big puppy dog eyes wouldn’t soothe the anger steamrolling over your professionalism. Fuck being professional. Sarah deserved a dad who was present, and if no one were going to call him out on his bullshit, you’d do it.

“I feel real shitty ‘bout it,” he sighed. “You ain’t gotta remind me.”

“You should feel shitty. She’s your daughter. I shouldn’t have to be the only one cheering for her on the sidelines. Nothing should be more important than that.”

“Would you quit lecturin’ me?” Joel barked. “I know I fucked up, and I already apologized to her. Again, I appreciate you takin’ the time to be there for her, and I’m real sorry for makin’ you do that.”

You huffed a laugh, folding your arms over your chest. 

“You didn’t make me do anything,” you argued. “I wanted to be there for her, but she wanted you to be there for her.”

Joel said nothing at that, only stared at you in stunned silence. You were done with him, letting your anger get the best of you. 

“I know what it feels like when the one person you want to see doesn’t show up. I know that disappointment. Have a great day, Mr. Miller. Tell Sarah I’ll see her on Monday.”

You spun on your heel toward your car, flinging the door open with more force than you wanted. You shouldn’t have brought your past into it; Joel was nothing like Bennette, but it hurt all the same. 

Joel didn’t try to stop you as you drove out of the neighborhood, but he remained at the curb of his driveway, his eyes never leaving you until you were out of view. 

You barely managed to put your car in park before you broke down in tears. Everything was crashing at the surface, and you didn’t have the strength to bottle it away this time. Bennett had been your entire world for five years. Your whole life revolved around him, from going to the same grad school together to moving away from Boston to be with him in his new career. You left everything behind for him and were happy to do it because you loved him. Despite his flaws and the “not-so-picture perfect” relationship, you stayed because you loved him. And in that moment when you needed him to be there for you… he was gone. You weren’t lying to Joel when you said you knew what that disappointment felt like; it was that same feeling that kept you up at night when you wondered if you had done something to deserve it. But Sarah? Sarah did nothing to deserve to be abandoned by her dad. All she wanted was to see that one person cheering her on from the sidelines, to hug her and tell her she was loved. 

She didn’t get that today. 

And you didn’t get that two years ago. 

With whatever dignity you had left, you dragged yourself inside and into your bedroom, flinging yourself onto the mattress. Curling into a ball on top of the comforter, you let the tears continue to fall as you stared at the empty walls where the pictures of you and Bennett had hung before. Every inch of this house was a reminder of the scars Bennett left on your heart. You could have moved out months ago, you could have gone home, but what was the use when the pain would just travel with you? Shutting your eyes, you let the emotions exhaust you until you drifted asleep. 

“Bennett, I told you what time the cake tasting was scheduled for,” you shouted across the kitchen. 

Bennett wasn’t even listening as he responded to a thread of emails on his computer. The law firm he had been working at kept him on a short leash, always requiring him to be there at their beck and call. Between you and his job, his loyalty was in the latter. 

“I know,” he nodded, still glued to the computer screen. “They needed a proxy for the shareholder meeting and asked me to step in.”

“We’ve had this scheduled for weeks now. You can’t expect me to make all these decisions alone.”

“Whatever cake you choose, I’m sure I’ll love it,” he shrugged.

“That's not the point!” You yelled, slamming down the Tupperware you had been scrubbing. 

That caught his attention. Slamming the laptop shut, Bennett’s nostrils flared at your sudden outburst. You weren’t usually this outspoken; you were always the level-headed and obedient fiancé he expected to have. But the entire engagement had been a disaster, between work conflicts and the constant pressure he put on you. Every day, he expected to come home to a fresh meal, never considering that your job didn’t end when three PM hit. Being a teacher meant your responsibilities began at home, when you were hunched over curating the next lesson and grading papers. You never complained about his workload extending into the evening, either. God forbid you ask for more time together. 

“What is the point?” He snapped.

“The point is that I want you there. I want you to be a part of this wedding planning process. All I’m asking for is two hours together, where we eat too much sugar and choose a damn cake flavor. It’s not even about the fucking cake, Bennett. It’s about you being present in this engagement.”

“Are you saying I’m not present?” He accused. “Because I have been as present as possible despite me working so hard to fund this big wedding that you wanted!”

“I just want you there with me for these things. Even if they aren’t important to you, it’s important to me,” you said, your energy dwindling. He always found a way to make you feel bad, and you looked past it for the sake of your heart. You loved him and did everything you could to make him love you in return. If that meant placating your feelings, you’d do it. 

“If it’s so important to you, then just go. You can tell me all about it when I get home tomorrow.”

That was the best resolution you’d get, and there was no use fighting anymore. He would always win. 

“Okay,” you acquiesced. “I’ll do that.”

Bennett rose from his chair and met you around the kitchen counter with a big hug. He rested his chin on your head as you melted into his chest.

“I love you, honey. I don’t want you angry at me all the time. You know I’m trying my hardest to be everywhere all at once. Just work with me, okay?” he sighed.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be better about it. I love you, too,” you whispered.

A firm knock on your front door jolted you awake from the flood of memories in your dreams. The shadows in your room were a telltale sign you had slept through most of the afternoon, which would put a hefty dent in the list of never-ending work you needed to finish. Sulking through the house to the front door, you smoothed down your hair and sweater, trying to gather your bearings. With one last heavy inhale, you pried the door open and stood paralyzed at the person standing before you. 

Joel said your name softly, his eyes tired and hair ruffled at the crown of his head. He looked as just a mess as you did, but most definitely for different reasons.

“Mr. Miller,” you said. “What are you doing here?”

He swayed back on his heels, holding your eyes apologetically. It was written all over his face; he didn’t need to say the words.

“Our conversation earlier ain’t sittin’ right with me,” he sighed.

“I overstepped, and I’m sorry,” you said honestly. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

Joel held his hand in protest, shaking his head at your words.

“Don’t apologize, okay? You were right about everything. I shoulda been there, and I wasn’t. I let her down.”

“Mr. Miller, I—.”

“I let her down,” he repeated. “And I let you down.”

You stood in stunned silence, trying to understand his words. Joel watched you turn the words over in your head, his eyes never leaving yours. He said everything you had ever asked to hear from Bennett in just a few words. You didn’t understand the emotions stirring inside you, nor could you control the tears welling in your eyes. This would be the second time you cried today, and now it would be the second time you cried in front of Joel. 

“You didn’t let me down,” you faltered. 

“I did. I want you to see that I’m not a bad father, but I seem to keep makin’ mistakes left and right. She expected me to be there, and so did you. I’m the type of man who makes and keeps his promises, but lately, I’ve been fallin’ short. It ain’t fair to her, and it ain’t fair to you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” you whispered, wiping your tears. 

“I sure as hell do,” he protested. “I owe you an apology. I’m sorry, okay? I’m gonna do better about bein’ there for her, and I want you to see that. I don’t wanna keep fuckin’ it all up.”

“Did you tell her that?” You asked. 

“I did, and now I’m tellin’ you. I want you holdin’ me accountable on all this, and I want you to call me out on my bullshit like you did earlier. I needed to hear all that.”

“I was just angry. I didn’t need to be that mean to you.”

Joel lifted his hand to brush away a stray tear falling down your cheek, the touch of his hand on your skin electrifying you. You flinched away, trying to curl into yourself. He noticed your movements, letting his hand fall back to his side. You glanced down, watching him clench his hand into a fist as if he were trying to control an urge inside of him. You were trying to do the same; being near him scared you. It shocked you to see someone act mature and actually own up to their faults; it was something Bennett rarely did. You couldn’t make sense of it. 

“There ain’t a single part of me that’s mad at you, okay? Don’t ever be afraid to speak your mind—at least not with me,” Joel said. 

You only nodded, too afraid that if you spoke now, you’d succumb to an ugly sob. Joel’s broad frame was shadowed and looming over you in the dying sunlight, a cloud over the haze inside your mind. Joel didn’t understand the weight in those words, the way they sewed shut the empty holes left inside you. It wasn’t Bennett saying them, and it definitely didn’t rewrite the past, but it was writing the future. It was a future with the possibility that you weren’t as broken as you thought. 

“Thank you,” you muttered. “I—just thank you.”

“Somethin’ tells me you ain’t been told these things before, huh?” Joel prodded. 

“It doesn’t matter. I appreciate you taking the time to come out here, and I’m sorry again. I promise I’ll be better about my anger,” you laughed, hoping you’d be able to brush it off with a forced smile. 

Joel saw right through you; his lips tugged down into a frown. You watched the crease between his eyebrows appear as he watched you minimize yourself right back down to zero. It wasn’t easier that way—making yourself small. Too big, and you’d be too much to handle. You were tired of being too much for anyone; it had already been your downfall once before. 

“Whoever made you feel like y’need to apologize all the time is a real piece of shit,” Joel huffed. 

“It’s alright, Mr. Miller. Thank you again for stopping by.”

“It’s the least I could do. And y’know what? I’d be happy if you joined me at the rest of her games. She loved havin’ you there, and I know it would mean a lot to her to see you on the sidelines again. Think that’s somethin’ you’d interested in?”

“I’ll think about it, yeah,” you smiled. 

“Yeah? Good,” he exhaled. 

Joel met you with a genuine smile, his eyes dancing over your face. You swayed in the doorway, unsure of what to do now that the conversation was coming to an end. A strange part of you didn’t want it to end; the stillness with him had managed to bottle away all of the lingering memories of Bennett, even if only for a moment. You’d take this over, crying yourself asleep like so often did. 

“You should head home to Sarah,” you sighed. “I hope you have a good weekend, Mr. Miller.”

“You have a g’night, alright?”

You watched him walk down the porch steps, the muscles in his back tense as he retreated back to his truck. You should have walked your ass back inside, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Before opening the truck door, Joel glanced back at you, waving a quick goodbye. You waved back and waited until his truck dissolved into the distance to finally shut your door and sit in the blaring silence. 

You watched the night fade away from the comfort of your couch, a half-eaten sandwich in front of you and a wine glass in hand. Not only did you overstep your boundaries as a teacher, but you overstepped every possible rule between a teacher and parent. Despite what happened at the bar with Joel, he was still Sarah’s dad and completely undeserving of the anger you had toward him today. He was slipping behind every brick wall you had built up around you, a fortress no one could penetrate, yet he was managing to do it so effortlessly. And it was infuriating. How were you supposed to protect yourself from him? Bennett had been the perfect man at the start, always saying the right things and showing his love in so many different ways, but even with the rose-colored glasses on, that all crumpled away as time moved on. Nothing about your relationship was perfect, yet you tried to mend the broken pieces in hopes the possibility of marriage would solve all your problems. But clearly, it didn’t. It never even made it to marriage.

You weren’t even considering dating Joel, but that didn’t stop you from doubting he would be any different than Bennett. Sure, he might seem interested now, but that would change once he saw every damaged piece of you. You were hardly controlling your emotions, as it were, so why would you spend the time sharing the rawest parts of yourself with someone who would end up leaving?

I’ll do better, you told yourself. Bottle it away.

Another week passed by without fuss; the students passed their practice exams and had even begun working on their group presentations on the new poetry unit you had created. After next week's midterm exams, you’d be on a plane heading to Boston to see your family during the fall break. You hadn’t been home in over a year, and you were well aware of the fact your parents and sisters missed you. It’s not that you didn’t miss them, but going home was another reminder of all you had lost. But you’d steer clear of the roads you’d traveled down with Bennett, you’d avoid the bars and restaurants he had taken you to, and you’d absolutely banish all thoughts of returning to the Public Garden where he had proposed. Every corner of your hometown was haunted by the ghosts of what had been, but you’d brave it for the sake of family. 

You had forfeited any thought of going to the soccer game out of sheer self-preservation. Being around Joel more than necessary was putting you at risk for an inevitable heartbreak, and it just wasn’t something you were ready to deal with. You didn’t want to let Sarah down, but Joel would be there for her, and that mattered more than you standing on the sidelines. She didn’t need you there; you’d only gone to the game to fill a void within her life. Joel was going to stick to his word, and you’d be able to maintain your teacher-parent relationship once again. You still had yet to forgive yourself for Saturday’s outburst. 

It wasn’t until Thursday when Sarah approached you, that you were reminded of the game.

When she approached your desk at the end of class, she had her textbook in hand and her backpack slung over her shoulder. You were feeling particularly drained from the day after spending most of the night tossing and turning between nightmares, and you had to muster up the strength to keep things light between you and her.

“So,” she started, a bright smile plastered on her face. “My dad said you might come to the game Saturday.”

“Oh, yeah. I—I haven’t decided yet. I’ve got to make sure everything is prepped for testing next week,” you lied.

“Oh,” her face fell. “That’s okay. I know the exams are important.”

Fuck.

You were transported right back to the kitchen with Bennett.

“I’m sure the prep work can wait till after the game,” you smiled, already giving up on your initial plans to avoid everything—everything being Joel Miller.

“If you don’t want to come…” Sarah trailed off, looking down at her sneakers.

“Hey,” you said softly. Her eyes traveled up to meet yours again. “I’ll be there. You have my word.”

Sarah perked up, nodding her head enthusiastically. 

“I’ll tell my dad! Maybe we can all get lunch after!” She babbled excitedly. 

Oh, Christ. 

“I’m sure you guys will want the day together,” you smiled, your patient wearing. “Go enjoy your night, Sarah. I’ll see you tomorrow in class. Don’t forget your notes on Shakespeare!”

“Bye, Miss Smith!”

You watched her sprint out of the room to catch up with her friends, and you sunk into your chair, dreading what may come during the weekend. 

Maria stopped by your classroom after the final bell, skeptically looking at you while you gathered your work bag. Thankfully, you both had Thursdays free of crosswalk duty, and you were ready to get home and sulk away under the guise of cheap wine and a bubble bath. 

“You’re extra grumpy today,” Maria noted, slinging her large purse over one shoulder. 

“I’m not grumpy,” you huffed. “I’m fucked. Completely fucked.”

She barked a laugh and watched you stuff files into your bag before you grabbed your keys and shooed her out to lock the door. The hallways were empty, except for a few teachers trickling out, and you walked a pace quicker, trying to escape the building before anyone else stopped you. 

“Why do I get a feeling this may be because of a certain parent?” She asked, shoving into you playfully. 

“Yes,” you grumbled. 

“Explain!”

“Ugh, okay. Listen, all of this is against my own will, okay?” 

You peered over at her, seeing a wicked smile splitting across her face. If anyone was on board with your confused emotions towards Joel Miller, it was Maria. She had been all for it since day one, and you knew she wouldn’t shut up about it until she saw you and him together. Which wouldn’t be happening. 

You dive into retelling the events of Saturday, including the outburst and the conversation with Joel that had followed. All through your rambling, Maria was squealing like a little girl and inserting small remarks here and there—all of which revolved around the idea that you should fuck out your feelings and get it over with. 

“Maria,” you snapped. “I’m not going to fuck him! Would you quit that?”

She shrugged, laughing off your stubbornness. 

“All I’m saying is that there is clearly some sort of chemistry between you both,” she sassed. “One night of hot sex might clear your mind, and you can resume your up-tight ‘teacher-parent’ bullshit you’re trying so hard to keep.”

“It’s not bullshit, Maria,” you argued. “It’s called being professional.”

You both had made it to the parking lot, and you tried to inch closer to your car in hopes of coming out unscathed from this conversation. But Maria was anything but relentless. 

“You really need to get laid,” Maria huffed. “Dust off the cobwebs and get back out there.”

“I’m perfectly fine with how my life is right now. I don’t need to get laid, and I certainly don’t need to be in a relationship.”

Maria grabbed your hands in hers, leveling you with a stern look under her thick mascara-coated lashes. With her lips set in a firm line, she squeezed your hands.

“It’s been two years,” she sighed. “Stop letting Bennett control your life. He’s in the past, and you need to find a new future—preferably one where you’re happy and in love.”

You squeezed her fingers in return, giving her a sad smile. You knew somewhere inside you that she was right, but it wasn’t in the cards for you right now. Not when you still had so much healing to do. 

“Thank you, Maria,” you whispered. 

When you arrived at the school, the soccer game had already begun. Your car sat idle in the parking lot for nearly twenty minutes until you finally found the strength to head toward the soccer fields. Among the line of parents on the sidelines, Joel was standing further away, his body swaying against the windy morning as his eyes stay focused on the field. You walked up slowly, smoothing out your t-shirt and running sweaty palms over your jeans. You definitely didn’t spend too much time getting ready for a simple game. As if he felt your energy circling him, Joel turned toward you with a beautiful smile breaking across his face. 

“I was hopin’ you’d show up,” he said. 

“Good morning, Mr. Miller,” you greeted. 

You weren’t sure what to do with yourself beside him, so you mimicked his stance and folded your arms over your chest. With the morning sun rising above the soccer field, you watched as his skin glowed in the sunlight, his tanned skin illuminated in the soft hues of the sunrise. He was undeniably gorgeous, but you forced that thought away along with all of the unruly ones that seemed to constantly evade your mind. 

“Sarah’s doin’ great out there so far,” he mentioned. “Got herself close to scorin’ a goal ten minutes ago. No doubt she’ll get one at some point.”

“I bet she will. She’s amazing out there.”

Joel beamed at your compliments of his daughter, his eyes tracking her as she ran across the field. A teammate shot the ball to her, and you both stood silently as she kept control of it toward the goal. Instead of taking the shot herself, she crossed the ball to another teammate, letting them score the first goal of the game. The parents on the sidelines sounded off with a round of cheers, and you and Joel joined in on the excitement. 

“She’s a team player,” you commented. “That’s a good quality.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiled proudly. 

This. This is what you had hoped to see for Sarah. A dad who was present and proud of her accomplishments. You could give her all the applause in the world, but his voice cheering above the rest was what mattered the most. 

There was a lull in conversation for a while as you both watched the game with rapt attention. You tried hard not to notice the way Joel shifted closer to you or the fact that he had dropped his arms so that he could casually brush his against yours. Each touch of his skin against yours was like a wave of heat rushing through your body, an electric current that started with him and ended with you. There was no doubt he did it on purpose, but you did nothing to stop it. You were losing the war between self-restraint and vulnerability. 

“How’s she likin’ class?” He asked, making small talk. 

You shrugged, glancing at him with an easy smile. 

“She’s one of the best kids in her grade. This new unit we’re working on will be a challenge, but I know she’s up for it.”

“What’s the new unit?”

“Poetry.”

Joel snorted a laugh, his fingers brushing against the denim on your leg. You shifted to glare at him, amused at his response. 

“What’s so funny, Mr. Miller?”

He ran a hand through the curls atop his head, giving you a lopsided grin. 

“Nothin’,” he chuckled. “Just don’t understand why poetry is so popular in schools nowadays.”

“Poetry has always been popular,” you said pointedly. 

“Has it? Must not have paid much attention back in the day,” he smirked. 

“It’s my favorite unit to teach,” you confessed. “I think poetry gets a bad rap—clearly—but it’s important to understand the way words can convey so many layered emotions in the simplest of ways.”

Joel eyed you as you spoke, nodding along with you as you spoke. Even if he wasn’t completely sold on the idea of poetry, you enjoyed how attentive he was to the conversation. In the distance, you heard the parents cheer again, and you glanced at the field to see Sarah running with the ball toward the goal. 

“Look!” You said, pointing toward the field.

Joel snapped his head back to his daughter, watching as she sent the ball soaring into the net. You jumped up and down, clapping at her goal and yelling out her name in excitement.

“That’s my girl!” Joel cheered. “Way to go, Sarah!”

Sarah looked over at him, her cheeks rosy from the play, and shot him two thumbs up. Joel returned the same hand gesture; his cheeks stretched wide with a smile as he watched his daughter dance into an embrace from her teammate. 

“You were sayin’,” he pressed, his eyes sliding back to you. 

“Oh,” you laughed. “That’s okay. I don’t want to bore you with all the school talk.”

“You ain’t borin’ me. I wanna hear what you have to say.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, realizing he wasn’t just asking these things to make small talk. He sincerely wanted to know the things you were interested in and the work you did, which was far from what you received from Bennett. Half the time you talked about your lessons, Bennett would just aimlessly nod while typing his emails and debriefs, his attention far away from you.

“Well, I’m starting off by teaching them about Shakespeare,” you explained, watching Joel open his mouth to make a retort. You held your hand up in defense and continued. “Before you go complaining about Shakespeare, I’ll have you know he’s one of the most renowned dramatists in history. His stylist choices in his playwrights were unlike anything else, and his work has completely impacted modern-day English. It’s because of him that we have so many words and phrases in the English language. Say what you want, but he really is worth learning about.”

Joel studied you for a moment, his lips curving up at the corners. You weren’t used to rambling off about useless things, more because you never really had the chance in the past. It was exciting to talk about the things you were passionate about, and you didn’t realize you’d find that moment being with Joel Miller. 

“Maybe I need to read some of his work,” Joel said. “What’s your favorite?”

“My favorite?” You blinked at him. “Oh, um, it’s cliche, but my favorite is Romeo and Juliet. That’s what I’m starting with on the unit.”

“Sarah got a copy of it?” he asked. 

“She should, yes.”

“Might need to steal it from her so I can see what all this fuss is about,” he smiled, bumping his arm into yours. 

“You don’t need to do all that,” you muttered. “I’m sure Sarah could tell you all about it after she’s done reading it.”

“I’m sure she could,” he acknowledged. “But maybe I'd like to do the research.”

“Research?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

Joel leaned into you, his face drawn closer to yours. 

“Yeah, research,” he repeated. “I wanna know why y’like it so much.”

Your mouth opened and closed, all words seemingly melting from your brain. What the hell were you supposed to say to that? He wanted to take the time to understand your interests… but why? Once again, Joel was proving to be everything you never saw in Bennett. And it scared the fuck out of you. Because you couldn’t date Joel, nor did you want to. Giving yourself up to another person, exposing those vulnerable parts of yourself like that would just be inviting the possibility of another heartbreak. 

“I can save you the time and tell you instead,” you offered. 

“Nah,” he smiled. “I wanna find out myself.”

The game came to a close, with the school team winning 2-0. Joel embraced Sarah when she ran off the field, wrapping her into a gigantic bear hug and planting a kiss on her forehead. You gave her a small high five, congratulating her on the win. You followed them out to the parking lot, watching as Joel kept his arm wrapped around Sarah’s narrow frame. From this angle, they looked like the perfect father-daughter duo, and your heart seized with happiness knowing he had kept his word. 

Digging through your purse for your car keys, you said a quick goodbye and made a beeline for your car. You wouldn’t insert yourself in the rest of their day; you needed to find some distance between you and Joel before he started crawling further under your skin. But as you tugged open your car door, a warmth grew behind you, and you turned to see Joel standing a few steps away. Sarah was nowhere in sight, so you figured she was already waiting for him in his truck. 

“Yes?” You asked, standing idle between the open door and Joel’s tall body. 

His eyes bounced between your lips and your eyes, never settling on one too long. 

“Look, this is gonna sound forward of me, and I can probably guess your answer,” he started. “But can I take you out to dinner sometime? As a ‘thank you' for everything.”

“Mr. Miller,” you sighed. “I appreciate the invitation, but this needs to remain purely professional. I’m Sarah’s teacher, and I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, his eyes trailing to the ground. Despite every cell inside your body screaming yes, you needed to stick to your rules—whatever the hell they were.

“I figured you’d say that,” he mumbled. "Listen, let me give you my number at least. If you ever change your mind, or if you need someone to drive you home from the bar, y’can shoot me a call. Is that okay?”

“I…” You trailed off, considering his offer. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

You searched for your phone in your purse, handing it over to him with shaky hands. His fingers brushed against yours as he took it, a crackle of energy bursting through your skin at his touch. He must have noticed, too, because his eyes met yours before he typed in his number. With a few more clicks on your phone, he handed it back, brushing his hand over yours once more. 

“I sent myself a text on it,” he confessed. “Now I have yours, just in case of anything, y’know?”

“Yeah, just in case.”

Joel gave you a soft smile before turning and walking away. You watched his figure fade into the cars still filling the parking lot and caught him glancing back at you one last time. You stared down at your phone, seeing the text lit up on the screen. He had sent one simple word to himself: your name. Not Miss Smith, not ‘Sarah’s teacher’, but your name. 

You opened his contact information and typed one simple word: Joel

[starry-bi-sky]

I'm slowly becoming obsessed with the childhood friends au and it's mostly bc of something you said in the tags of an ask lol. you mentioned that they weren't soulmates they were something better. that they were two balls of yarn they batted around until they were intertwined, that they chose and continue to choose to be as close as two souls can be.

it's so poetic, the idea that fate has nothing to do with it. they looked at each other and said this is it, that's the one. It makes me think of so many different quotes but here's just a few. Hozier "lay me gently in the cold dark earth, no grave can hold my body I'll crawl home to her (him)" or like patroclus saying that if Achilles were to die that "all things soft and beautiful would be buried with him" and poor Danny grieving so long and so hard because "what is grief if not love perserving?" when you're in love with someone, that person is the lighthouse of your universe and to lose them is to be thrown to a tempestuous sea.

and thinking of their reunion makes me feel a little crazy too cause I see what you've been plotting and it just makes me think of how their relationship is going to be at first. like here's a person that you love so deeply and it's been so long since you've seen them and you've both changed since. will they click back together seemingly effortlessly? attached at the hip for a bit because they're both/or one is scared of being separated again? or will there be some friction for a while while they try to realign their pieces to fit together, to figure out what's different and what's practically the same? "you are a language I am no longer fluent in but still remember how to read"

sorry for rambling, I love them your honor.

🫵 DONT YOU DARE APOLOGIZE FOR RAMBLING I LOVE GETTING RAMBLING ASKS. AND SAME.

There was this one sound on tiktok that I heard that reminded me of them, and I just went and found it, and it goes: "I would recognize you in another lifetime entirely in different bodies, different times, and i would love you in all of this. Until the very last star in the sky burnt out into oblivion." and the first time i heard it i literally thought "this is CFAU Danny and Jason"

AND YEAH THEY JUST. I love devoted characters, i love when characters are so deeply devoted and loyal to each other its like you can't imagine them being anywhere else but at each other's side. That wasn't wholly my intent when I first came up with CFAU last fall, but god I am not complaining about how it turned out. My favorite part of the chapter 1 rewrite is making sure Danny's devotion to Jason was reciprocal.

god those quotes. they're so accurate too. yeah. i thought about this au once in the context of a soulmate au, and just couldn't get behind it. It made their whole dynamic felt cheapened, like of course they're soulmates; it was destined. When no, it wasn't. They made it that way.

(If the two of them were somehow transported to a universe with soulmate marks, they would not have matching symbols. That's okay, Danny and Jason don't need them to be. They'd pick up a tattoo gun or a pen and make their own. They wouldn't call it a soulmate mark, just a them mark.)

("Why should I share my soul with some schmuck I don't know? I want to share my soul with you.")

yeah. their reunion is. ! about as exactly as intense as it needs to be :]. They've both changed so much, and they're both scared of being separated again. Jason purposely stayed away from Amity because he knew he couldn't keep away if he didn't. Being back together again is like having a piece of them returned.

SPEAKING OF QUOTES. Here's one:

I don't believe in the death that you're bringing The reason I'm living is you Wherever you go That's where I'll be Even if death tags along, I don't mind It's still you and me I'll never leave you alone

"Death's At My Door" - The Outsiders Musical

[gatheringbones]

[“While TERFs and Conditionally Accepting Cis-ters overtly perpetuate(d) cis-ness and Casual Transphobes unintentionally perpetuate cis-ness, this final set of participants, categorized as “Critically Cis,” went the farthest in actually interrogating cis-ness and whiteness. In doing so, they worked to actively challenged cis logics and cis privilege. They did this by conceptualizing trans women as female and women, refusing to ask people about their genitals and bodies, and referring to trans women with she/her pronouns. Critically Cis participants also believed that you cannot necessarily discern who is trans and cis and that trans women can choose whether to “out” themselves or not at their discretion. These participants additionally desired to protect trans people from cis people and interrogated their own genders and desires. These participants’ point to the ways in which they interrogate cis-ness, and detail how Critical Cis-ness can work to counter the necropolitics of cis-ness (i.e., the production of cis-ness through violence and death).

During the focus group with White/White-passing participants, I asked participants which photos of the eight women shown to them during their interviews they assumed to be trans. While the one cis-het man participant, Adam, immediately pointed out who he assumed was trans and referred to our interview, during which he had done so as well, the cis-lesbian women participants were more hesitant to do so. Rachel and Vincent discussed their hesitance, saying:

Rachel: I mean I know that some of the women are transgender, but I feel kind of uncomfortable pointing it out?

alithia: Okay why?

Rachel: Um I don’t know because communities that I’m in, I’ve kind of learned that it’s like not appropriate to like point out if somebody is trans unless they’re talking about it with you or something. Or even nonbinary. I don’t know, basically as a cis person, I try not to talk too much about people’s bodies.

Vincent: I mean it’s kinda weird asking like what makes this person different than other women, like. . .

Rachel: Yeah because it’s kinda like pointing out how they’re like not passing.

Participants who engaged in what I conceptualize as Critical Cis-ness aimed not only to be inclusive but to actively learn how to better be in solidarity with trans people and to interrogate the questions individuals ask interpersonally and as a society about marginalized people. Vincent highlighted that marking someone as “cis-passing” and someone as “trans-appearing” marks one’ womanhood out as somehow Other and deviant from cisgender womanhood. This not only would Other “visibly trans” trans women but also “visibly trans” cis women who have traits deemed “trans.”

Janelle, too, refused to assume who is trans and who is cis. She highlighted the oddness of this bodily preoccupation. I asked Janelle, as I did all participants, “In general, can you tell if someone is trans or not?” She responded:

In general . . . you know, I don’t like, I don’t like to um assume. If you tell me, I’ll be like, “Okay,” but like . . . if not . . . then . . . I’m not gonna assume. I know there are some trans people who are more cis passing, that’s perfectly fine, but like I’m not just, I’m not, I don’t try to assume. Usually I’m minding my own business; I’m not looking at someone like, “Hmmm, I wonder if they have a vagina,” like no! Like I’m worried about my own vagina, like when am I getting my period [laughs]? You know? So I don’t try to worry about things like that.

Here, Janelle, highlighted a need to shift away from a focus on others’ bodies to her own body. The refusal to ask about other’s bodies and genitals and the refusal to categorize bodies not only works against cissexism but against Western, White ontologies of gender, as well. As noted earlier, Oyěwùmí highlights the West’s preoccupation with the body in how the self is understood in relation to others. Rachel and Vincent, having learned to not ask about bodies, had now internalized a discomfort in even hypothetically engaging in “body-reasoning.” This discomfort has the potential to open the way to new ways of relating as people.”]

alithia zamantakis, from thinking cis: cisgender heterosexual men, and queer women’s roles in anti-trans violence, 2023

[yuyusuyu]

bloody hell — forgive and forget

synopsis. oh, if only, if only she hadn't crossed paths with him. then maybe, just maybe, all of this could've been avoided... except, it was bound to happen by fate. there was no escaping the fate that was given to you at birth.

pairing. ot8! vampire! ateez x fem! reader (not poly! everyone will have their own ending!)

genres/aus. vampire au, suspense, romance, angst, slow burn

warnings. mentions/description of blood, arguing, cursing, jongho about to throw hands oop, mention of k wording someone help. if there's anything i should add, please lmk !

rating. pg-13

wc. 2.6k lol...

a/n. this was nawt proofread... super duperrr sorry for uploading late !! was very busy and am very busy right now but things should calm down next week heh.

send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are appreciated! helps with not getting shadowbanned!

YOU ABSENTMINDELY TAP YOUR PEN ON THE DESK, your eyes reading over and over again what you had written down in your notebook.

MIDTERM

Find someone whose first/native language isn’t Korean + do a presentation on the phoneme of their language and choose one interesting phonetic element of that language and do a more in depth look at it

includes recordings + analyzing

MANDATORY TO FIND A SENIOR TO DOUBLE CHECK THE WORK (prof said she doesn’t want to do it and is lazy)

the last bullet point you wrote down makes you snicker—your professor is a prime example of how blunt she is— and shake your head, deciding to finally close it and put it away. the lecture room is empty now, your classmates having left minutes ago after the clock hit one in the afternoon. you remained in your seat to avoid their trampling, and quite frankly, you want to remain there.

but your phone buzzes, vibrating against the table and reminding you that you have to get going if you want to get there in time.

you grab your phone, your finger right over the screen.

jjongs: are you out?

you get up from bed, sluggishly walking to the kitchen to drink a cup of water, walking past jongho as he leans against the wall outside your door. it was when you had filled up your glass cup and brought it to your lips that he spoke softly.

“why didn’t you text me yesterday?”

he remains in his spot, his head hung low while he waits. three gulps and the cup is empty; you turn your back towards him and head to the sink, beginning to wash it. “i forgot.”

“you forgot?” his tone is… weird. not quite mad, but in disbelief? he doesn’t believe you, and you don’t know why. you’ve never lied to him, never given him a reason to not trust you.

“yeah,” you answer, scrubbing the inside of the cup harshly with the sponge, creating a lot of foam. “i forgot. why?” you pause for a second. “you don’t believe me?”

he scoffs, and you hear him walk closer to you by the way his voice gets louder. “did you really forget? you usually don’t forget anything at all.”

“well, this time i did.” you open the tap, staring intently at the water wash away the soap. “why are you asking?”

“i just think you’re lying.”

this time you scoff, finding it absurd that he’s telling you that. “why the hell would i lie to you?” is he really trying to argue with you right now? this early in the morning? the thought makes you angry.

jongho’s eyes widen the slightest bit when you turn around abruptly. you’re glaring at him, waiting for his next words, missing the fact his eyes are a shade darker than normal, like the color of obsidian, no hint of the usual brown in them. “kou told me he saw you with a man by the pharmacy at the corner. did you go on a date? did you even go to work yesterday?” the words spill from his lips before his mind even processes them.

“you’re kidding right?” when jongho stays silent, you dryly laugh. “jongho, are you even listening to yourself? you know i would never skip work: he’s too important. i work for kou, i work so i can pay the damn bills. did i go on a date? please,” the anger fades from your features, replaced by an odd calmness. “don’t make me laugh by asking stupid questions, jongho.”

“it’s not stupid,” he says, his gaze hard. “i was worried the whole time.”

“maybe you should stop worrying.”

jongho falters, blinking once, then tensing. “what?”

you shrug, “you heard me. maybe you shouldn't worry about me anymore.” you lift your hand and point at the door. “you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

you glance away. should you text him? apologize for what happened in the morning? or do you ignore him until you both forget about it? well, the third one isn’t the best to do right now, but—

the phone buzzes again, and you glance down just in time for the screen to show another message.

song mingi (womanizer? co worker): are you clocking in today?

“what?” you squint at the screen. “what is he talking about?”

another message pops up on your phone.

choi soobin (good co worker): i have sumn to tell you today ;/

choi soobin (good co worker): SHIT I DINT MEAN THAT

choi soobin (good co worker): I MEATN ;/

choi soobin (good co worker): WAITTTA3TTT

choi soobin (good co worker): I MEANT :/

you clear your throat.

choi soobin (good co worker): can i have a do over

choi soobin (good co worker): i need to redeem myself

you: have at it

choi soobin (good co worker): i have sumn to tell you today ;/

choi soobin: WAITITJITK

you: i’ll see you soon then

choi soobin: NO GIRL COME BACKKCKE GIMME ANOTHER CHANCE OLSSSS

“how silly,” you chuckle, checking the time.

jongho should be gone by now, hopefully already on his way home. there’s no way he’d wait out by the parking lot for you.

except he is, or rather, he just happens to be near the parking lot. when you spot him, walking down the path with two guys, you see that he’s staring intently at his phone. then, he looks up, as if he knew you were looking at him, and meets your gaze.

he leaves his friends behind, though they trail after him, and he's quickly in front of you, his other friends right next to him. jongho is rubbing the back of his neck, a sheepish expression painting his features. “i—”

“you have got to be kidding me.”

a quick look to the right has your lips curling into a frown, seeing the redhead from days ago scowl at you. the redhead, wooyoung, glowers at you as if you’re some insect he can’t bare to look at, averting his gaze to the side and huffing. “just my damn luck…”

“well, you’re a rare sight around these grounds.”

you, jongho, and wooyoung snap your heads to the left: a man with black hair and cat-like features smiles at you. you’re about to bite back with a snarky comment on how he sounds like he’s talking in the medieval ages but with a modern twist, but wooyoung is quick to beat you to it.

“san,” wooyoung leans forwards to look at the male, “who the hell talks like that?”

san and wooyoung get into a heated argument, and you take this opportunity to step to the side and walk away with brisk steps, holding onto your bag with such strength your knuckles turns a shade paler. but you don’t make it far when jongho wraps a hand around your wrist. he’s gentle, afraid that one wrong movement will have you fleeing from him.

you look over your shoulder. “what?” your tone is harsher than what you wanted for it to sound, it has you wincing as your best friend grimaces.

his eyes, you note, are now it’s usual deep brown hue, though lighter now that the sun shines down. “i wanted to apologize for what happened this morning.”

his shoulders are tense while yours relax. you feel like a weight has been lifted off you now, like you can finally breathe. “you were an ass.”

“i know i was.”

“and you were being unreasonable.”

he huffs through his nose, the corners of his lips twitching. “you’re right.”

you swivel around and narrow your eyes at him. “and you were being weird. how the hell did you jump to the conclusion that i was seeing someone?”

jongho kicks a foot against the pavement of the sidewalk, looking down as if, suddenly, his shoes are the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. “the… the demons inside me took over. like, literally.”

“the… demons?” you repeat, confused.

he looks up, looking sincere. “yeah… i just, i genuinely don't know what happened to me. the demons literally took over and i ended up losing my cool.” jongho pauses, eyes darkening for single second while he thinks, and turns his attention back to you, the usual deep brown back. “it must be the stress getting to me and i took it out on you in such a horrible way. i truly am sorry, y/n.”

he means it, you know he does. jongho taps a finger against the side of his leg, something he does when he's nervous.

“apology accepted.”

jongho brightens, “really?”

“yeah,” you smile, deadpanning the next second, “but no more pulling whatever the hell you pulled in the morning.”

“i promise that won’t happen again.” he beams, taking a step closer to you. his arms open up, and you huff through your nose and shake your head.

jongho’s hugs are always warm when you decide to indulge in them every once in a while. he never has a tight grip around you, it’s always gentle but firm. they’re nice and manage to ease your worries and whatever tension you have away.

“i’m sorry too, you know,” you mumble against the fabric of his hoodie. you realize then it’s the one you gave back to him yesterday by the smell of the expensive detergent mixed with that of the cologne he usually wears.

“what for?”

“i said some pretty hurtful things.”

“well, i deserved them.”

you don’t say anything else, instead closing your eyes and letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. that is, until someone decides to break this moment of tranquility.

“wait…” san points an accusing finger at jongho, who merely tilts his head in confusion. “don’t tell me…”

“what?” both jongho and wooyoung say.

“is she your girlfriend?”

“what?” the statement is so absurd that it has you reeling away from jongho, squinting your eyes at san like he just said something you can’t comprehend.

jongho lets his arms fall to his side. “no.”

“oh,” san breaks out into a smile. “you don’t mind if i steal her from you then?”

your best friend scoffs and ignores san. “listen,” he says, glancing at you. “stay away from those two. they’re… not very good people.”

“then why are you friends with them?” you watch jongho’s eyes widen.

“…it’s complicated,” he grumbles, “just—just don’t get too close to them.”

just don’t get too close to them. jongho’s words echo in your mind, the scene of him dragging both his friends away replaying over and over again. you never knew he was friends with people like them, and your mind can barely wrap around the sudden realization that you actually don’t know anything regarding jongho’s personal life.

there’s a tug at your hand that brings you back to the present, eyes falling down to the eleven year old holding it. “sis,” kou says, “we’re here.”

the book store you work at is right in front of you, the words ‘LUCID DREAMS BOOKSTORE’ in gold lettering staring back at you.

the doors chime when you push them open, the smell of coffee hitting your nose. kou lets go of your hand and runs away to his usual table, dropping his things on top and then disappearing into the fiction aisle.

you make your way to the back, reaching out for the handle when the door swings open.

“what are you doing here?”

“no ‘hello?’ no ‘how are you?’” mingi pouts and wipes a fake tear away. “do you hate me, yn?”

“no,” you reply, “but what are you doing here? we don't work the same shifts here.”

your shift buddy here is choi soobin, not song mingi.

mingi grins, “starting next week we will.”

“huh? what happened to soobin?”

the culprit himself comes out from the back, a pout on his lips. “screw this.” he grumbles, his once gloomy expression morphing into a happy one when he sees you. “ynie~”

“ynie?” mingi repeats, an eyebrow raised at soobin’s sudden change in behavior.

“yeah,” soobin says, giving him the nastiest side-eye you’ve ever seen. “because she’s my favorite co-worker and i’m hers, too.”

mingi looks at you with both his brows raised, shocked at the information. “for real?”

you shrug. “yeah,” you say, “soobin’s great to work with.”

“well not anymore,” mingi replies, smiling triumphantly as if he just won a prize.

“what?”

“yeah…” soobin drawls, looking away from your questioning gaze. “mingi and i switched shifts.”

“what—”

“—the hell is wrong with you?”

the door hits the wall with such frightening force that it leaves it broken with a dent. it's such a hideous thing to look at, the dent, that is. it stands out against the other pristine, white walls.

“i assume you’ll be fixing that,” seonghwa looks through the mirror in front of him at jongho, his eyes a deep maroon color, completely different to the bright red coating his lips. “right?”

jongho glares angrily at him, watching as the older male leans down, gripping the neck of the poor girl next to him. the platinum blond opens his mouth, his canines enlarging and about to pierce a new spot.

“tell her to leave.”

seonghwa stops, and his eyes turn into the hue of a ruby. “clean yourself up, bandage your neck. then you will leave this place and forget about it. today never happened.”

the girl stands up, eyes glazed over as seonghwa hands her a cloth and gauze, wiggling his fingers at her as she leaves silently. jongho hears him mumble something about killing her later as an extra precaution.

“what is it that you want, jongho?” he asks, grabbing a napkin from beside him and dabs the blood away from his lips, his eyes going to maroon and then a dark brown. “you interrupted my feeding.”

in the next second, jongho stands in front of him. seonghwa looks at him through his eyelashes, clearly unimpressed with his attitude. “well? you ought to spit out whatever is wrong before my patience wears thin.”

“you had no right to do that.”

seonghwa’s lips curl upwards into a wicked grin, eyes reflecting the amusement he feels. “ah,” he says, “so that's what this is about.”

he continues to speak at jongho’s silent rage. “i was just testing my hypnosis. i guess my theory is correct,” seonghwa doesn't falter when the collar of his white button up is fisted and he is made to lean forwards, “seeing as how it worked on you to some extent.”

“you had no right to do that,” jongho repeats. “absolutely no right.”

his thin fingers wrap around his wrists, tugging them off in one swift gesture. “i don’t understand why you’re so upset at me.”

at this, jongho scoffs, eyes blown wide from the fury that almost blinds him. “don’t understand?” he laughs through his nose, “you don’t understand why i’m so upset? i could’ve lost her because of you charming me!” he falters, the anger replaced by fear at the dangerous glimmer in seonghwa’s delighted eyes.

“so it’s a girl,” he hums. “who you care for the most. i thought it would’ve been hongjoong, maybe even yeosang.”

“don’t ever charm me again.” jongho backs away and crosses his arms over his chest. “don’t think about seeking her out either.”

“i’m not curious enough to do that to your little human,” seonghwa shrugs, “i don’t have enough time for that.”

“then why charm me at all?”

seonghwa smiles, “yunho suggested it.”

“what?”

“he told me i should try charming you to see if it works on you, told me to charm you into hurting the one you most care about.”

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BLOODY HELL | yuyusuyu 2024

[onigiriico]

Kazui audio drama (t2) - English TL

[ links: Spotify / Youtube ]

I cannot believe my hs philosophy class came in handy as I was translating this. Thanks Milgram your references never fail to astound me

Aaanyways you know how it is,, feel free to send an ask or hit me up on Twitter if you’ve got any questions or other feedback re: this translation etc 💪 (<- sincerely hoping that Twitter DMs still work these days)

⬇️ translation under the cut ⬇️

(door opens)

E: I’ve kept you waiting, Kazui.

K: It’s been a while, Warden-kun.

E: Yeah… It has been.

K: Things have gotten pretty tough inside the prison, but… well, you’ve probably heard all about that from the others already, haven’t you?

E: Yeah… I heard that you protected other prisoners from Kotoko. I owe you my thanks.

K: That much is only natural. However… she really is strong, isn’t she? I mean, I’ve experienced some fights myself, but [going up against] a woman like her was a first.

E: Hm… Is she strong enough that even you can’t stop her from doing harm?

K: Well, in cases like this, it’s generally the heavier person who ends up winning. After all, if she really does have proper killing intent, I can’t afford to let her injure anyone. It’s difficult, isn’t it.

E: Is that so…

K: I was afraid that it’d come to this from the very beginning. There’s a lot of young kids here, too. It’d be hard for anyone to keep a decent mentality in a situation like this.

E: …You’re pretty rational.

K: I wonder. Maybe it’s because I’m used to violence. Even so… I couldn’t make it for Shiina-chan. I feel responsible for [what happened to] her.

E: …

K: Well, rest assured, though. As long as I can move, I’ll be protecting [the others]. After all, it’s pretty much just me who can fight her on equal terms.

E: Mikoto, too.

K: Ah… yeah. Like back when he went out of control, right? I can’t quite read him, though… If both of them were to attack us, it’s possible that we’d suffer a total defeat. 

E: A total defeat…?

K: If that happens, this prison game would probably come to an end as well. All of that depends on your judgment, right, Warden-kun? Who will be forgiven by you and who won’t be…

E: What are you trying to say?

K: If at all possible, I would like you to choose a method that will not get any more people hurt. That’s what I’m saying.

E: So you’re telling me to forgive you?

K: (laughs) Oi, oi…! Don’t look at me like that.

E: I’m the Warden. If I forgive you, I forgive you. If I don’t, I don’t. There’s no other factors to it.

K: (sighs) Wouldn’t it be okay? I mean, this situation with prisoners being hurt wasn’t what you wanted either, was it?

E: …

K: Just pretend that you’re looking at our sins, and make your judgment with the protection of the prisoners in mind. After all, nobody can read your mind – so that much craftiness would be fine, don’t you think?

E: Hmph. That’s a very “you” kind of pretentious solution.

K: It’s the most natural conclusion, isn’t it? Do you think it’s a sin to lie in order to protect people?

E: That would be Kant.

K: Kant?

E: A philosopher who stated that lying is inherently a sin, no matter the circumstances.

K: Huh…

E: Apparently, even if your friend is being chased by a murderer and the murderer asks you about their whereabouts, you shouldn’t lie, according to Kant.

K: That’s ridiculous. If you can save someone by telling a lie, that’s what you should do.

E: However… You killed someone with your lies, didn’t you?

K: … Ah… You forgave me, didn’t you? Aren’t you being especially strict towards me?

E: Am I?

K: Mmh, it’s obvious. You said you would figure out my murder by watching the footage of my mind. Is this the result of that?

E: You were unfaithful, right? That’s stupid.

K: Hmm…

E: The reason I forgave you was because I was lacking details. I still don’t understand your true feelings or how things got to that point, either.

K: I see.

E: It was extremely hard to understand. Even with all of that poetry, though, your self-absorbed nature was more than obvious.

K: Ohh my… That’s quite the sweeping generalization, even though you forgave me.

E: It’s a personal dislike of mine. People who act based on their sexual urges like that, that is.

K: It’s personal?

E: Yeah. That’s right.

K: That’s strange. I did think that, despite being neutral as a Warden, you had some things you dislike, but…

E: …

K: Isn’t it unusual to openly reveal a personal dislike as a personal dislike?

E: You’re splitting hairs.

K: Seems like you really disliked my crime… I get it! Maybe it was because you’re so young, which is to say… …

E: Hah? Stop staring at me so openly. It’s disgusting.

K: …

E: …! (punches him)

(clattering)

E: (sighs) Now I feel better.

K: — Ow…! What are you doing all of a sudden…?!

E: It was an instinctive reaction. Don’t take it personally.

K: Would you stop just punching me in the face without hesitation? … (sighs) Anyways… that’s how it is, huh? That’s how it is…?

E: Hah?

K: I didn’t even consider this a possibility… Personal impressions sure can be scary.

E: If you say any more things than this that I don’t get, I’m hitting you again.

K: Geez, cut out the hysterics… Hmm, if it’s like this, that explains some things, though. I don’t have kids, but I’ve heard that this is what it’s like.

E: Hey. Stop blabbering on while looking like you know it all. It’s obnoxious.

K: Hahaha! But you know what? You’re wrong.

E: …? What are you talking about?

K: You’re wrong.

E: …

K: You said I was unfaithful – in other words, that I cheated or committed adultery of some kind.

E: Yeah. That’s what I deduced from your footage.

K: It’s not true. It didn’t even turn into infidelity. It didn’t turn into anything like that. For me… In my case, you see.

E: … You’re married… You’re a married man, aren’t you?

K: Hm? Yeah, that’s right. Oh, right, I never told you, did I?

E: You’ve taken off your ring.

K: … Right… I did take it off, huh. Right…

E: Yeah.

K: Mh. … I do carry it with me, though. See? – I was forgiven. My feelings were validated. So… maybe that means that I don’t have to do this anymore? Thanks to that, I was feeling better when the second trial started… I really do feel sorry about that. Towards my wife.

E: If that ring is a symbol of punishment to you… There really is nothing that could possibly be more cruel towards her.

K: Mmh.

E: Marriage is something that both partners want equally, isn’t it? It’s something you can’t do if only one person wants it. Deciding to treat it as a punishment all on your own… You’re making a mockery out of it.

K: I really am. Ah… She must have thought so as well. My wife, that is.

E: I’ve said this before: You’re a liar. Those lies have killed a person.

K: (sighs)

E: I forgave you. While I wasn’t sure yet, I thought that it didn’t seem like you killed her directly, and with all sorts of things taken into consideration, I judged that your murder was not a sin. However. That doesn’t mean that I’m praising your nature as a liar.

K: Yeah. I believe you’re right about that.

E: In short – between love and hate, [I would say] I hate you. Remember that.

K: … I get that.

E: Huh?

K: I despise myself for lying, too. Being a liar, you see – it’s painful.

E: Heh. Then just–

K: So I’ve tried to change! I’ve tried to change. I have tried to stop lying to myself and others!

E: …

K: I’ve confided in others. I’ve tried to be myself! I’ve tried to just be the way I was born!

E: …Hey, Kazui–

K: It’s not my lies that killed her. She’s dead because I stopped lying to her! If I had just kept lying- She wouldn’t have died…!

E: Kazui…

K: I can’t live unless I lie. That’s how I was born… I’m pathetic, aren’t I?

E: (sighs) I really can’t seem to understand you.

K: …

E: Just when I thought you weren’t letting out any of your true feelings and cleverly hiding your actual emotions… Now here you are, drowning in self-loathing like this.

K: (weak laugh) An old man in unstable condition… that’s not something you’d wanna see, is it. Sorry about that.

E: You know, about Kant…

K: Ah, the one who said you shouldn’t lie even if your friend might get killed.

E: From his point of view, if your friend dies because you didn’t lie, there’s no causal connection between the two… or so I’ve heard.

K: I don’t think so, though…

E: Even if you don’t lie, your friend might survive. And if you do lie, your friend might end up dying on a different occasion. That’s the reason why you’re supposed to always tell the truth.

K: …That’s convincing.

E: It’s not really.

K: Yeah, it’s not.

E: It may not be, but… I thought that for someone who has failed in their attempts to be honest, it might be a [saving] grace so they won’t end up doubting honesty in its entirety.

K: …

E: I still don’t know what happened, but… isn’t it okay to be proud that you made an effort to be honest in the first place?

K: … You’re so kind all of a sudden.

E: I just said what I was thinking. And besides – I forgave you. I made it as if your sin wasn’t a sin at all. And yet, you don’t seem the slightest bit relieved.

K: I know right.

E: Everyone else seems more or less liberated by the fact that they were forgiven.

K: That’s right.

E: Just from that… I understand that having your feelings approved of by someone else can have a major impact on the development of one’s personality.

K: …

E: However… You have not forgiven yourself. That’s why you can’t change.

K: …

E: Alternatively, even if your lying self was forgiven… it would still do nothing to help you.

K: …Aah, you really are impressive. You think so much.

E: I am watching over ten troublesome prisoners, after all. Even if I don’t want to, I’m being relied on.

K: I haven’t forgiven myself… even if my lies are forgiven, it won’t resonate [with me]. It might just be both of these. All the lies I’ve told are tying me down. Ever since I was little, I’ve never truly opened myself to anyone. But in the end, people can’t be saved if they don’t [open up]. And by now, it’s gotten to a point where I can’t do it by myself anymore…

(machinery whirrs, bell rings)

K: I did think Milgram would be able to force its way past that, though.

E: Is that an attempt at provocation?

K: You didn’t manage to reach my sin.

E: …

K: Even though I want you to… Milgram isn’t so great after all, is it?

E: …Heh. Don’t push yourself too hard, after all that whining from earlier.

K: Ha. [This is] the wish of a liar who’s reached a dead end – come and figure out my lies, Milgram. And, Es… please, free me from these lies.

E: Yeah. Leave it to me. – Prisoner no.7, Kazui. Sing your sins.